Music poems
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Love And Solitude
© John Clare
I hate the very noise of troublous man
Who did and does me all the harm he can.
Herod
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
The Virgin speaks Draw back the starry curtains of the night,
O Cherubim, and Seraphim!
Pull back the purple curtains of the night,
For I would look once more upon the world,
That ere my sorrows made some young delight
In bird and bee and each earth-flower uncurled.
A Florida Sunday.
© Sidney Lanier
From cold Norse caves or buccaneer Southern seas
Oft come repenting tempests here to die;
Bewailing old-time wrecks and robberies,
They shrive to priestly pines with many a sigh,
Tears Of The fatherland
© Andreas Gryphius
So, now we are destroyed; utterly; more than utterly!
The gang of shameless peoples, the maddening music of war,
Written at Dropmore
© Samuel Rogers
Grenville, to thee my gratitude is due
For many an hour of studious musing here,
To A Fallen Elm
© John Clare
Old Elm that murmured in our chimney top
The sweetest anthem autumn ever made
And into mellow whispering calms would drop
When showers fell on thy many coloured shade
Early Nightingale
© John Clare
When first we hear the shy-come nightingales,
They seem to mutter o'er their songs in fear,
And, climb we e'er so soft the spinney rails,
All stops as if no bird was anywhere.
Peace
© Margaret Widdemer
ALL my days are clear again and gentle with forgetting,
Mornings cool with graciousness of time passed stilly by.
Evening sweet with call of birds and lilac-rose sun-setting,
And starshine does not hurt my heart nor night-winds make me cry.
Inscription
© Francis Thompson
When the last stir of bubbling melodies
Broke as my chants sank underneath the wave
Song's Eternity
© John Clare
What is song's eternity?
Come and see.
Can it noise and bustle be?
Come and see.
May
© John Clare
Come queen of months in company
Wi all thy merry minstrelsy
The restless cuckoo absent long
And twittering swallows chimney song
The Nightingale's Nest
© John Clare
Up this green woodland-ride let's softly rove,
And list the nightingale she dwells just here.
Hush ! let the wood-gate softly clap, for fear
The noise might drive her from her home of love ;
Christmass
© John Clare
Christmass is come and every hearth
Makes room to give him welcome now
Een want will dry its tears in mirth
And crown him wi a holly bough
Invitation To The Redbreast
© William Cowper
Sweet bird, whom the winter constrains--
And seldom another it can--
Follow Your Saint
© Thomas Campion
Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet;
Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet.
Toys
© Margaret Widdemer
SHE loves the flowers, the wind that bends the fir;
When the Spring comes she dances; and her mirth
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. Interlude V.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A strain of music closed the tale,
A low, monotonous, funeral wail,
That with its cadence, wild and sweet,
Made the long Saga more complete.
Thief of the Moon
© Kenneth Slessor
Break, break thy strings, thou lutanists of earth,
Thy musics touch me not-let midnight cover
With pitchy seas those leaves of orange and lime,
I'll not repent. The world's no longer worth
One smile from thee, dear pirate of place and time,
Thief of old loves that haunted once thy lover!
The Dead Kings
© Francis Ledwidge
All the dead kings came to me
At Rosnaree, where I was dreaming.
A few stars glimmered through the morn,
And down the thorn the dews were streaming.
Wallace Ferguson
© Edgar Lee Masters
There at Geneva where Mt. Blanc floated above
The wine-hued lake like a cloud, when a breeze was blown
Out of an empty sky of blue, and the roaring Rhone
Hurried under the bridge through chasms of rock;
