Music poems
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Coogee
© Henry Kendall
Sing the song of wave-worn Coogee, Coogee in the distance white,
With its jags and points disrupted, gaps and fractures fringed with light;
Music's Duel
© Richard Crashaw
Now westward Sol had spent the richest beams
Of noon's high glory, when, hard by the streams
Song
© Madison Julius Cawein
Unto the portal of the House of Song,
Symbols of wrong and emblems of unrest,
And mottoes of despair and envious jest,
And stony masks of scorn and hate belong.
A Perfect Sonnet
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Oh, for a perfect sonnet of all time!
Wild music, heralding immortal hopes,
Strikes the bold prelude. To it from each clime,
Like tropic birds on some green island slopes,
Nature The Consoler
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
GLADLY I hail these solitudes, and breathe
The inspiring breath of the fresh woodland air,
Most gladly to the past alone bequeath
Doubt, grief, and care;
To A Friend
© Joseph Rodman Drake
YES, faint was my applause and cold my praise,
Though soul was glowing in each polished line;
Lara. A Tale
© George Gordon Byron
Proud Otho on the instant, reddening, threw
His glove on earth, and forth his sabre flew.
"The last alternative befits me best,
And thus I answer for mine absent guest."
The Mountain Of The Lovers
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I.
LOVE scorns degrees! the low he lifteth high,
The high he draweth down to that fair plain
Whereon, in his divine equality,
From North Wales: To The Mother
© George MacDonald
When the summer gave us a longer day,
And the leaves were thickest, I went away:
Like an isle, through dark clouds, of the infinite blue,
Was that summer-ramble from London and you.
King Bibler's Army
© Henry Clay Work
It was ten years ago when the belle of the village
Gave here her hand to the young millionaire,
Buckdancers Choice
© James Dickey
So I would hear out those lungs,
The air split into nine levels,
Some gift of tongues of the whistler
South-West Wind In The Woodland
© George Meredith
The silence of preluded song -
AEolian silence charms the woods;
A Secret Place
© Robert Laurence Binyon
O my peace, O well
So deep no thought could sound it,
Whence arose thy spell
When in my heart I found it?
Correspondances (Correspondences)
© Charles Baudelaire
La Nature est un temple où de vivants piliers
Laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles;
L'homme y passe à travers des forêts de symboles
Qui l'observent avec des regards familiers.
Sonnet. "I would I knew the lady of thy heart!"
© Frances Anne Kemble
I would I knew the lady of thy heart!
She whom thou lov'st, perchance, as I love thee.
The Non-Combatant
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Among a race high-handed, strong of heart,
Sea-rovers, conquerors, builders in the waste,
The Lady Of La Garaye - Part III
© Caroline Norton
And either tries to hide the thoughts that wring
Their secret hearts; and both essay to bring
Some happy topic, some yet lingering dream,
Which they with cheerful words shall make their theme;
But fail,--and in their wistful eyes confess
All their words never own of hopelessness.
