Music poems
/ page 21 of 253 /
Lurline (Inscribed to Madame Lucy Escott.)
© Henry Kendall
As you glided and glided before us that time,
A mystical, magical maiden,
The Leaf-Cricket
© Madison Julius Cawein
I see thee quaintly
Beneath the leaf; thy shell-shaped winglets faintly-
(As thin as spangle
Of cobwebbed rain)-held up at airy angle;
I hear thy tinkle
With faery notes the silvery stillness sprinkle;
Amans Amare
© Daniel Henry Deniehy
A cottage small be mine, with porch
Enwreathed with ivy green,
And brightsome flowers with dew-filled bells,
Mid brown old wattles seen.
The Season
© Alfred Austin
So sings the river through the summer days,
And I, submissive, follow what I praise.
What if my boyish blood would rather stay
Where lawns invite, where bonnibels delay,
Though but a youth and not averse from these,
To conflict called, I abdicate my ease,
The Wisdom Of Eld
© George Meredith
We spend our lives in learning pilotage,
And grow good steersmen when the vessel's crank!
Praise And Prayer
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
DOUBT spake no word in me as there I kneeled.
Loathing, I could not praise: I could not thank
England And Spain
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Illustrious names! still, still united beam,
Be still the hero's boast, the poet's theme:
So when two radiant gems together shine,
And in one wreath their lucid light combine;
Each, as it sparkles with transcendant rays,
Adds to the lustre of its kindred blaze.
Minstrels
© William Wordsworth
The minstrels played their Christmas tune
To-night beneath my cottage-eaves;
While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,
That overpowered their natural green.
Songs Set To Music: 16. Set By Mr. Smith
© Matthew Prior
Accept, my Love, as true a heart
As ever lover gave;
'Tis free (it vows) from my art,
And proud to be your slave.
Saint Cloud
© Sir Walter Scott
Soft spread the southern sumer night
Her veil of darksome blue;
Ten thousand stars combined to light
The terrace of Saint Cloud.
In Memory of John Fairfax
© Henry Kendall
Because this man fulfilled his days,
Like one who walks with steadfast gaze
Winter
© Archibald Lampman
The long days came and went; the riotous bees
Tore the warm grapes in many a dusty vine,
The Making Of Viola
© Francis Thompson
Smile, sweet baby, smile,
For you will have weeping-while;
Native in your Heaven is smile, -
But your weeping, Viola?
Color De Cuento
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
¡Oh qué gratas las horas de los tiempos lejanos
en que quiso la infancia regalarnos un cuento!
Dormida por centurias en un bosque opulento,
despertaste a la blanda caricia de mis manos.
Remembered Music
© James Russell Lowell
Thick-rushing, like an ocean vast
Of bisons the far prairie shaking,
The notes crowd heavily and fast
As surfs, one plunging while the last
Draws seaward from its foamy breaking.
At A Birthday Festival
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
WE will not speak of years to-night,--
For what have years to bring
But larger floods of love and light,
And sweeter songs to sing?
Picture Books
© Edgar Albert Guest
I HOLD the finest picture-books
Are woods an' fields an' runnin' brooks;
On The Threshold
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
AN usher standing at the door
I show my white rosette;
A smile of welcome, nothing more,
Will pay my trifling debt;
Why should I bid you idly wait
Like lovers at the swinging gate?
An Australian Girl
© Ethel Castilla
"She's pretty to walk with,
And witty to talk with,
And pleasant, too, to think on."
Sir John Suckling.
