Music poems
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In Memoriam 131: O Living Will That Shalt Endure
© Alfred Tennyson
O living will that shalt endure
When all that seems shall suffer shock,
Rise in the spiritual rock,
Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure,
The Man With The Hoe:Written after Seeing the Painting by Millet
© Edwin Markham
God made man in His own image, in the image of God made He him.GENESIS
BOWED by the weight of centuries he leans
Night Of Frost In May
© George Meredith
With splendour of a silver day,
A frosted night had opened May:
A Little While
© Sara Teasdale
A little while when I am gone
My life will live in music after me,
As spun foam lifted and borne on
After the wave is lost in the full sea.
Far-Far-Away
© Alfred Tennyson
What sight so lured him thro' the fields he knew
As where earth's green stole into heaven's own hue,
Far-far-away?
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto V.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III The Heart's Prophecies
Be not amazed at life; 'tis still
The mode of God with His elect
Their hopes exactly to fulfil,
In times and ways they least expect.
The Orphan's Song
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
I had a little bird,
I took it from the nest;
I prest it, and blest it,
And nurst it in my breast.
A Plea For Our Northern Winters
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Oh, Earth, where is the mantle of pleasant emerald dye
That robed thee in sweet summer-time, and gladdened heart and eye,
Adorned with blooming roses, graceful ferns and blossoms sweet,
And bright green moss like velvet that lay soft beneath our feet?
Ode To Georgiana, Duchess Of Devonshire, On The Twenty-Fourth Stanza In Her 'Passage Over Mount Goth
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
'And hail the chapel! hail the platform wild
Where Tell directed the avenging dart,
With well-strung arm, that first preserved his child,
Then aimed the arrow at the tyrant's heart.'
On Winter
© George Moses Horton
When smiling Summer's charms are past,
The voice of music dies;
Then Winter pours his chilling blast
From rough inclement skies.
The Song Of Hiawatha III: Hiawatha's Childhood
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Downward through the evening twilight,
In the days that are forgotten,
Street Circus
© Alexander Blok
Suddenly the clown twists in the lights
Screaming, «Please help me! Please help!
I am bleeding red cranberry juice!
I have bandages made of rags!
I have a paper helmet on my head!
Ive a wooden sword in my hand!»
Senlin: A Biography Pt 02: His Futile Preoccupations
© Conrad Aiken
Vine leaves tap my window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chips in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three clear tones.
What I Call Living
© Edgar Albert Guest
The miser thinks he's living when he's hoarding up his gold;
The soldier calls it living when he's doing something bold;
The sailor thinks it living to be tossed upon the sea,
And upon this vital subject no two of us agree.
But I hold to the opinion, as I walk my way along,
That living's made of laughter and good-fellowship and song.
The Dream by the Fountain
© Charles Harpur
Bright was her brow, not the mornings brow brighter,
But her eyes were two midnights of passionate thought;
Light was her motion, the breezes not lighter,
And her looks were like sunshine and shadow in-wrought.
Juana
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
The night-wind shook the tapestry round an ancient palace-room,
And torches, as it rose and fell, waved thro' the gorgeous gloom,
And o'er a shadowy regal couch threw fitful gleams and red,
Where a woman with long raven hair sat watching by the dead.
