Music poems

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Don Juan: Canto The Twelfth

© George Gordon Byron

Of all the barbarous middle ages, that

Which is most barbarous is the middle age

My Room

© George MacDonald

But when, sinking slow, the sun
Leaves the glowing curtain dun,
I, of prophet-insight reft,
Shall be dull and dreamless left;
I must hasten proof on proof,
Weaving in the warp my woof!

Good Night to the Season

© Winthrop Mackworth Praed

Good-night to the Season!the rages

Led off by the chiefs of the throng,

An Altar-Flame

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

EVEN as when utter summer makes the grain

Bow heavily along through the whole land

The House Of Dust: Part 03: 01:

© Conrad Aiken

As evening falls,

And the yellow lights leap one by one

A Dream of the Orient

© Charles Harpur

With a resplendent Eastern bride,

Like a houri at my side,

In Prison

© Li Yu

A rule of forty years;

A kingdom of a thousand miles;

There Are Faeries

© Madison Julius Cawein

There are faeries. I could swear
I have seen them busy, where
Roses loose their scented hair,
In the moonlight weaving, weaving,

The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto V

© Richard Savage

My hermit thus. She beckons us away:
Oh, let us swift the high behest obey!

Even over chaos and the murdering roar
Comes that world--winning music, whose full stops
Sounded all man, the bestial and divine;
Terrible as thunder, fresh as April drops.
He stands, he speaks, the soul--transfigured sign
Of all our story, on the English shore.

Thomas the Rhymer

© Sir Walter Scott

Ancient
True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;
A ferlie he spied wi' his ee;
And there he saw a lady bright,
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto II.

© George Gordon Byron

1
Tambourgi! Tambourgi! thy 'larum afar
Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war:
All the sons of the mountains arise at the note,
Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote!

The Princes' Quest - Part the Fifth

So, being risen, the Prince in brief while went

Forth to the market-place, where babblement

On The Sea's Bosom

In blue sky floats a multitude of clouds --
White, black, of many shades and thicknesses;
An orange sun, about to say farewell,
Touches the massed cloud-shapes with streaks of red.

The Task : Complete

In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all in man that ministers
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn;
Object of my implacable disgust.