Music poems
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Metropolitan
© Arthur Rimbaud
From the indigo straits to Ossian's seas,
on pink and orange sands washed by the vinous sky,
An Address to the Steam Washing Company and Letter of Remonstrance from Bridget Jones to the Nobleme
© Thomas Hood
An Address to the Steam Washing Company
"For shamelet the linen alone!" M. W. of Windsor.
Mr. ScrubMr. Slopor whoever you be!
Sonnet XLI: I Thank All
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I thank all who have loved me in their hearts,
With thanks and love from mine. Deep thanks to all
On the Building of Springfield
© Vachel Lindsay
Let not our town be large, remembering
That little Athens was the Muses' home,
That Oxford rules the heart of London still,
That Florence gave the Renaissance to Rome.
The Portrait
© Siegfried Sassoon
I watch you, gazing at me from the wall,
And wonder how you'd match your dreams with mine,
If, mastering time's illusion, I could call
You back to share this quiet candle-shine.
I Heard Immanuel Singing
© Vachel Lindsay
(The poem shows the Master, with his work done, singing to free his heart in Heaven.)
I heard Immanuel singing
Within his own good lands,
I saw him bend above his harp.
Don Juan: Canto The Fifteenth
© George Gordon Byron
Ah!--What should follow slips from my reflection;
Whatever follows ne'ertheless may be
The Amaranth
© Vachel Lindsay
Ah, in the night, all music haunts me here. . . .
Is it for naught high Heaven cracks and yawns
And the tremendous Amaranth descends
Sweet with the glory of ten thousand dawns?
Cell Song
© Etheridge Knight
Night Music Slanted
Light strike the cave of sleep. I alone
tread the red circle
and twist the space with speech
Blanche Sweet
© Vachel Lindsay
MOVING-PICTURE ACTRESS(After seeing the reel called "Oil and Water.")
Beauty has a throne-room
In our humorous town,
Spoiling its hob-goblins,
Virginia
© Thomas Babbington Macaulay
Fragments of a Lay Sung in the Forum on the Day Whereon Lucius Sextius Sextinus Lateranus and Caius Licinius Calvus Stolo Were Elected Tribunes of the Commons the Fifth Time, in the Year of the City CCCLXXXII.
Ye good men of the Commons, with loving hearts and true,
Milton--December 9, 1608: December 9, 1908
© George Meredith
Homage to him
His debtor band, innumerable as waves
Running all golden from an eastern sun,
Joyfully render, in deep reverence
Subscribe, and as they speak their Milton's name,
Rays of his glory on their foreheads bear.
The Ghosts of the Buffaloes
© Vachel Lindsay
Last night at black midnight I woke with a cry,
The windows were shaking, there was thunder on high,
The floor was a-tremble, the door was a-jar,
White fires, crimson fires, shone from afar.
To A Certain Civilian
© Walt Whitman
DID YOU ask dulcet rhymes from me?
Did you seek the civilian's peaceful and languishing rhymes?
How a Little Girl Sang
© Vachel Lindsay
Ah, she was music in herself,
A symphony of joyousness.
She sang, she sang from finger tips,
From every tremble of her dress.
The Santa-Fe Trail (A Humoresque)
© Vachel Lindsay
This is the order of the music of the morning:
First, from the far East comes but a crooning.
The crooning turns to a sunrise singing.
Hark to the calm -horn, balm -horn, psalm -horn.
Hark to the faint -horn, quaint -horn, saint -horn. . . .
