Music poems
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Broken Music
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
I know not in what fashion she was made,
Nor what her voice was, when she used to speak,
Nor if the silken lashes threw a shade
On wan or rosy cheek.
A Love Letter
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
OH, I des received a letter f'om de sweetest little gal;
Oh, my; oh, my.
Anglers Fireside Song
© Henry Van Dyke
Oh, the angler's path is a very merry way,
And his road through the world is bright;
The Cornet
© Conrad Aiken
When she came out, that white little Russian dancer,
With her bright hair, and her eyes, so young, so young,
He suddenly lost his leader, and all the players,
And only heard an immortal music sung,-
The Unattained
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
A vision beauteous as the morn,
With heavenly eyes and tresses streaming,
Thespis: Act I
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Jupiter, Aged Diety
Apollo, Aged Diety
Mars, Aged Diety
Diana, Aged Diety
Mercury
Leichhardt
© Henry Kendall
LORDLY harp, by lordly master wakened from majestic sleep,
Yet shall speak and yet shall sing the words which make the fathers weep!
Violin And A Little Nervous
© Vladimir Mayakovsky
Violin was torn to pieces begging,
And then broke out in tears
So childishly,
That Drum couldn't handle it any longer,
It's all right, it's all right, it's all right! He got tired, Not hearing out Violin's speech, and Sneaked out to the Kuznetsky, And made off. The orchestra looked strangely, as Violin cried herself out Wordless Without tempo And only somewhere Foolish Cymbals Were banging out: What is it? How is it? Then when Helicon Copper-faced Sweating Shouted: Stupid! Softy! Wipe it off! I got up, Shaking, crawled over the notes, Bending low under the horror of the pupitre, For some reason cried out, Oh, God! Threw myself at her wooden neck, Violin, you know? We are so alike: I do also Shout But still can not prove anything either! The musicians are laughing: Gotcha! He's dating a wooden girlfriend! Smart one, ha! I don't give a damn! I am worthy! You know what, Violin? Why don't we Move in together! Ha?
Sonnet XXVI: I Lived With Visions
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I lived with visions for my company
Instead of men and women, years ago,
Sixth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
When bitter thoughts, of conscience born,
With sinners wake at morn,
To A Noisy Contemporary
© Weldon Kees
Your egos bad dream drums that vision
Encountered on page one, pages three to eighty-nine.
Count the wound-up places where we went aground.
As an entertainment, zero. Hero horror. Try the line
Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil: A Story From Boccaccio
© John Keats
I.
Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!
The Higher Brotherhood
© Madison Julius Cawein
To come in touch with mysteries
Of beauty idealizing Earth,
Go seek the hills, grown old with trees,
The old hills wise with death and birth.
Melodrama
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Take of these elements any you care about,
Put 'em in Texas, the Bowery, or thereabout;
Put in the powder and leave out the grammar,
And the certain result is a swell melodrammer.
Hope Is Not For The Wise
© Robinson Jeffers
Hope is not for the wise, fear is for fools;
Change and the world, we think, are racing to a fall,
En La Plaza De Armas
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
¿Que se hizo, Plaza de Armas, el coro de chiquillas
que conmigo llegaban en la tarde de asueto
del sábado, a tu kiosco, y que eran actrices
de muñeca excesiva y de exiguo alfabeto?
Winter
© Samuel Johnson
No more the morn with tepid rays
Unfolds the flower of various hue;
Noon spreads no more the genial blaze,
Nor gentle eve distills the dew.
Preparatory Meditations - Second Series: 12
© Edward Taylor
Dull, dull indeed! What, shall it e'er be thus?
And why? Are not Thy promises, my Lord,
Rich, quick'ning things? How should my full cheeks blush
To find me thus? And those a lifeless word?
My heart is heedless: unconcerned hereat:
I find my spirits spiritless and flat.
