Music poems
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The House Of Dust: Part 02: 11:
© Conrad Aiken
Snow falls. The sky is grey, and sullenly glares
With purple lights in the canyoned street.
The fiery sign on the dark tower wreathes and flares . . .
The trodden grass in the park is covered with white,
The streets grow silent beneath our feet . . .
The city dreams, it forgets its past to-night.
Sylvan Musings.In May.
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
COUCHED in cool shadow, girt by billowy swells,
Of foliage, rippling into buds and flowers,
Here I repose o'erfanned by breezy bowers,--
Lulled by a delicate stream whose music wells
Pan The Fallen
© William Wilfred Campbell
He wandered into the market
With pipes and goatish hoof;
He wandered in a grotesque shape,
And no one stood aloof.
Ruth
© Henry Lawson
Are the fields of my fancy less fair through a window thats narrowed and barred?
Are the morning stars dimmed by the glare of the gas-light that flares in the yard?
No! And what does it matter to me if to-morrow I sail from the land?
I am free, as I never was free! I exult in my loneliness grand!
The Song Of Iron
© Lola Ridge
Not yet hast Thou sounded
Thy clangorous music,
Whose strings are under the mountains…
Not yet hast Thou spoken
The blooded, implacable Word…
The Last Review
© Henry Lawson
Turn the light down, nurse, and leave me, while I hold my last review,
For the Bush is slipping from me, and the town is going too:
Draw the blinds, the streets are lighted, and I hear the tramp of feet
And Im weary, very weary, of the Faces in the Street.
Winter
© Czeslaw Milosz
The pungent smells of a California winter,
Grayness and rosiness, an almost transparent full moon.
I add logs to the fire, I drink and I ponder.
Within and Without: Part I: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
Robert.
Head in your hands as usual! You will fret
Your life out, sitting moping in the dark.
Come, it is supper-time.
The Outlaw
© Charles Kingsley
Oh, I wadna be a yeoman, mither, to follow my father's trade,
To bow my back in miry banks, at pleugh and hoe and spade.
Stinting wife, and bairns, and kye, to fat some courtier lord,-
Let them die o' rent wha like, mither, and I'll die by sword.
The Song Of Hiawatha XXI: The White Man's Foot
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In his lodge beside a river,
Close beside a frozen river,
Echoes Of Spring
© Mathilde Blind
I.
I WALK about in driving snow,
And drizzling rain, splashed o'er and o'er;
No sign that radiant spring e'en now
Stands at the threshold of the door.
An Hour Of Romance
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
There were thick leaves above me and around,
And low sweet sighs like those of childhood's sleep,
Twelfth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
The Son of God in doing good
Was fain to look to Heaven and sigh:
Chamber Music
© John Jay Chapman
SILENCE: the sunset gilds the frozen ground,
But here within all's curtained; stands are set
In the wide salon where gilt chairs abound,
And eager listeners wait. The band is met
Whose tuning sheds a cheerful hum around:
Prophetic notes! The tapers brighten at the sound.
Avenue In Savernake Forest
© William Lisle Bowles
How soothing sound the gentle airs that move
The innumerable leaves, high overhead,
A Day in Sussex
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The dove did lend me wings. I fled away
From the loud world which long had troubled me.
Dedication
© John Keble
When in my silent solitary walk,
I sought a strain not all unworthy Thee,
My heart, still ringing with wild worldly talk,
Gave forth no note of holier minstrelsy.
Maiden May
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Maiden May sat in her bower,
In her blush rose bower in flower,
Sweet of scent;
Sat and dreamed away an hour,
Half content, half uncontent.
An Anniversary
© Ada Cambridge
AS flower to sun its drop of dew
Gives from its crystal cup,
So I, as morning gift to you,
This poor verse offer up.
II.
