Music poems
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Sonnets to the Sundry Notes of Music
© William Shakespeare
I.
IT was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three,
That liked of her master as well as well might be,
Till looking on an Englishman, the fair'st that eye could see,
Her fancy fell a-turning.
My Mother's Kiss
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
My mother's kiss, my mother's kiss,
I feel its impress now;
As in the bright and happy days
She pressed it on my brow.
Anadyomene
© Sara Teasdale
The wide, bright temple of the world I found,
And entered from the dizzy infinite
That I might kneel and worship thee in it;
The Task: Book IV. -- The Winter Evening
© William Cowper
Hark! tis the twanging horn oer yonder bridge,
That with its wearisome but needful length
Sonnet X: O Then I Love
© Samuel Daniel
O then I love and draw this weary breath,
For her the cruel Fair, within whose brow
The Holy Island
© William Henry Drummond
Dey call it de Holy Islan'
W'ere de lighthouse stan' alone,
Sappho
© Charles Kingsley
She lay among the myrtles on the cliff;
Above her glared the noon; beneath, the sea.
The Phantom Fleet
© Alfred Noyes
The sunset lingered in the pale green West:
In rosy wastes the low soft evening star
Woke; while the last white sea-mew sought for rest;
And tawny sails came stealing o'er the bar.
Flower and Song
© William Herbert Carruth
I dug a little flower
From out the forest-shade,
And set it in my garden
Where light and sunshine played.
Prosopopoia : or, Mother Hubbards Tale
© Edmund Spenser
Yet he the name on him would rashly take,
Maugre the sacred Muses, and it make
A servant to the vile affection
Of such, as he depended most upon;
And with the sugrie sweete thereof allure
Chast Ladies eares to fantasies impure.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part. 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf VI. -- The Wraith Of Od
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The guests were loud, the ale was strong,
King Olaf feasted late and long;
The hoary Scalds together sang;
O'erhead the smoky rafters rang.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
Sonnet LVI. Music And Poetry. 2.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
YET words though weak are all that poets own
Wherewith their muse translates that kindred muse
Of Harmony, whose subtle forms and hues
Float in the unlanguaged poesy of Tone.
Forms Of Prayer To Be Used At Sea
© John Keble
The shower of moonlight falls as still and clear
Upon this desert main
Fragments
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Or rather to behold her when
She plies for me the unresting pen,
And when the loud assault of squalls
Resounds upon the roof and walls,
And the low thunder growls and I
Raise my dictating voice on high.
The Perpetual Wooing
© Eugene Field
The dull world clamors at my feet
And asks my hand and helping sweet;
Songs Set To Music: 14. Set By Mr. Smith
© Matthew Prior
Once I was unconfined and free,
Would I had been so still!
Enjoying sweetest liberty,
And roving at my will.
Ballade Of Cleopatra's Needle
© Andrew Lang
Prince, the stone's shade on your divan
Falls; it is longer than ye wist:
It preaches, as Time's gnomon can,
This monument in London mist!
Cinderella
© Sylvia Plath
The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,
Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan
Of silver as the rondo slows; now reels
Begin on tilted violins to span
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire
© George Gordon Byron
These are the themes that claim our plaudits now;
These are the bards to whom the muse must bow;
While Milton, Dryden, Pope, alike forgot,
Resign their hallow'd bays to Walter Scott.
