Music poems
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The Dead Poet
© Lord Alfred Douglas
And then methought outside a fast locked gate
I mourned the loss of unrecorded words,
Forgotten tales and mysteries half said,
Wonders that might have been articulate,
And voiceless thoughts like murdered singing birds.
And so I woke and knew that he was dead.
The Improvisatore, Or, 'John Anderson, My Jo, John'
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Eliza. Ask our friend, the Improvisatore ; here he comes. Kate has a favour
to ask of you, Sir ; it is that you will repeat the ballad [Believe me if
all those endearing young charms.-EHC's ? note] that Mr. ____ sang so
sweetly.
A Streams Singing
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
O HOW beautiful is Morning!
How the sunbeams strike the daisies,
And the kingcups fill the meadow
Like a golden-shielded army
Edwin and Angela, A Ballad
© Oliver Goldsmith
'Turn, gentle hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,
To where yon taper cheers the vale
With hospitable ray.
The Story of Prince Agib
© William Schwenck Gilbert
STRIKE the concertina's melancholy string!
Blow the spirit-stirring harp like anything!
Let the piano's martial blast
Rouse the Echoes of the Past,
For of AGIB, PRINCE OF TARTARY, I sing!
The Centennial Cantata.
© Sidney Lanier
Mayflower, Mayflower, slowly hither flying,
Trembling westward o'er yon balking sea,
Hearts within `Farewell dear England' sighing,
Winds without `But dear in vain' replying,
Gray-lipp'd waves about thee shouted, crying
"No! It shall not be!"
Morals Of Desperation
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE man who's wholly ruined, sir, fears nothing;
How can he when all's lost to him already?
There is a desperate gayety which comes
To buoy one up in such a strait as this;
The Comedian As The Letter C: 01 - The World Without Imagination
© Wallace Stevens
Nota: man is the intelligence of his soil,
The sovereign ghost. As such, the Socrates
Morn Like A Thousand Shining Spears
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Morn like a thousand shining spears
Terrible in the East appears.
O hide me, leaves of lovely gloom,
Where the young Dreams like lilies bloom!
Raising The Dead
© John Kenyon
We all have heard, and marvelled as we heard,
Of seers, who have raised the Dead from out their tombs,
Song of Unending Sorrow.
© Bai Juyi
China's Emperor, craving beauty that might shake an empire,
Was on the throne for many years, searching, never finding,
The Authors: A Satire
© Richard Savage
"HOLD, Criticks cry-Erroneous are your Lays,
"Your Field was Satire, your Pursuit is Praise."
True, you Profound!-I praise, but yet I sneer;
You're dark to Beauties, if to Errors clear!
Know my Lampoon's in Panegyric seen,
For just Applause turns Satire on your Spleen.
For An Allegorical Dance Of Women By Andrea Mantegna
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
(In the Louvre)
SCARCELY, I think; yet it indeed may be
Sonnet III.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
AH, happy time! when music bound in one
Two kindred souls that ne'er were out of tune:
When in the porch, beneath the summer moon,
Our supper o'er, our school-boy lessons done,
The Witch of Hebron
© Charles Harpur
Of golden lamps, showed many a treasure rare
Of Indian and Armenian workmanship
Which might have seemed a wonder of the world:
And trains of servitors of every clime,
Greeks, Persians, Indians, Ethiopians,
In richest raiment thronged the spacious halls.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Student's Tale; The Falcon of Ser Federigo
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"Who is thy mother, my fair boy?" he said,
His hand laid softly on that shining head.
"Monna Giovanna. Will you let me stay
A little while, and with your falcon play?
We live there, just beyond your garden wall,
In the great house behind the poplars tall."
The Valley Of Anostan
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AN Orient legend, which hath all the light
And fragrance of the asphodels of heaven,
Smiles on us from old Ælian's mellowed page;
And thus it runs, smooth as the stream of joy
