Music poems
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Paradiso (English)
© Dante Alighieri
The glory of Him who moveth everything
Doth penetrate the universe, and shine
In one part more and in another less.
Sonnet XIII. To Mr. H. Lawes On His Aires
© John Milton
Harry whose tuneful and well measur'd Song
First taught our English Musick how to span
Words with just note and accent, not to scan
With Midas Ears, committing short and long;
Vox Et Praeterea Nihil
© Henry Timrod
I've been haunted all night, I've been haunted all day,
By the ghost of a song, by the shade of a lay,
The Voyage Of St. Brendan A.D. 545 - The Paradise Of Birds
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
It was the fairest and the sweetest scene--
The freshest, sunniest, smiling land that e'er
Held o'er the waves its arms of sheltering green
Unto the sea and storm-vexed mariner:--
The Spagnoletto. Act III
© Emma Lazarus
RIBERA (laying aside his brush).
So! I am weary. Luca, what 's o'clock?
Daphne
© George Meredith
Musing on the fate of Daphne,
Many feelings urged my breast,
For the God so keen desiring,
And the Nymph so deep distrest.
Satan Absolved
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.
We have no heart to serve without instructions new.
To A Friend Who Had Declared His Intention Of Writing No More Poetry
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Dear Charles! whilst yet thou wert a babe, I ween
That Genius plunged thee in that wizard fount
High Castalie: and (sureties of thy faith)
That Pity and Simplicity stood by.
The Royal Mails
© Ralph Hodgson
For all its flowers and trailing bowers,
Its singing birds and streams,
A Song Of England
© Alfred Noyes
There is a song of England that none shall ever sing;
So sweet it is and fleet it is
A Relapse
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I thought that I had done with fleshly things,
That in the azure of high thought my soul
Had learned to fly on less substantial wings
To a new Heaven, a sublimer goal.
The Prophecy Of Famine
© Charles Churchill
Still have I known thee for a silly swain;
Of things past help, what boots it to complain?
Nothing but mirth can conquer fortune's spite;
No sky is heavy, if the heart be light:
Patience is sorrow's salve: what can't be cured,
So Donald right areads, must be endured.
The Old Play
© Kenneth Slessor
I
IN an old play-house, in an old play,
In an old piece that has been done to death,
We dance, kind ladies, noble friends.
Lilith
© Madison Julius Cawein
Yea, there are some who always seek
The love that lasts an hour;
And some who in love's language speak,
Yet never know his power.
The Lady Of La Garaye - Part I
© Caroline Norton
So, till the day when over Dinan's walls
The Autumn sunshine of my story falls;
And the guests bidden, gather for the chase,
And the smile brightens on the lovely face
That greets them in succession as they come
Into that high and hospitable home.
On A Symphony Of Beethoven
© Frances Anne Kemble
Terrible music, whose strange utterance
Seemed like the spell of some dread conscious trance;
Dreams
© Emma Lazarus
A DREAM of lilies: all the blooming earth,
A garden full of fairies and of flowers;
Its only music the glad cry of mirth,
While the warm sun weaves golden-tissued hours;
Elegy, Written In The Year 1758
© James Beattie
Still, shall unthinking man substantial deem
The forms that fleet through life's deceitful dream?
On clouds, where Fancy's beam amusive plays,
Shall heedless Hope the towering fabric raise?
Al Aaraaf: Part 1
© Edgar Allan Poe
PART I
O! nothing earthly save the ray
(Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty's eye,
As in those gardens where the day
First Day Of Summer
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Sweetest of all delights are the vainest, merest;
Hours when breath is joy, for the breathing's sake.
Summer awoke this morning, and early awake
I rose refreshed, and gladly my eyes saluted
