Music poems
/ page 87 of 253 /
Sunlight And Sea
© Alfred Noyes
Give me the sunlight and the sea
And who shall take my heaven from me?
My Darling, We Sat Together
© Heinrich Heine
My darling, we sat together,
We two, in our frail boat;
The night was calm o'er the wide sea
Whereon we were afloat.
The Farmer's Boy - Autumn
© Robert Bloomfield
Again, the year's _decline_, midst storms and floods,
The thund'ring chase, the yellow fading woods,
Invite my song; that fain would boldly tell
Of upland coverts, and the echoing dell,
By turns resounding loud, at eve and morn
The swineherd's halloo, or the huntsman's horn.
After A Lecture On Keats
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
"Purpureos spargam flores."
THE wreath that star-crowned Shelley gave
Of Heaven
© John Bunyan
Heaven is a place, also a state,
It doth all things excel,
No man can fully it relate,
Nor of its glory tell.
The Music O The Dead
© William Barnes
When music, in a heart that's true,
Do kindle up wold loves anew,
Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh
© Ovid
The End of the Seventh Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Ella with the Shining Hair
© Henry Kendall
One passed us, like a sudden gleam;
Her face was deadly fair.
Oh, go, we said, you homeless Dream
Of Ellas shining hair!
Coombe-Ellen
© William Lisle Bowles
Call the strange spirit that abides unseen
In wilds, and wastes, and shaggy solitudes,
1946-47
© Jibanananda Das
Thousands of Bengali villages, silent and powerless, sink into
hopelessness and lightlessness.
When the sun sets, a certain lovely haired darkness
Comes to fix her hair in-a bun-but by whose hands?
The Brothers
© Richard Monckton Milnes
'Tis true, that we can sometimes speak of Death,
Even of the Deaths of those we love the best,
Without dismay or terror; we can sit
In serious calm beneath deciduous trees,
The Solitary Reaper
© William Wordsworth
Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
The Poet's Testament
© George Santayana
I give back to the earth what the earth gave,
All to the furrow, none to the grave,
The candle's out, the spirit's vigil spent;
Sight may not follow where the vision went.
The Cane-Bottom'd Chair
© William Makepeace Thackeray
In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars,
And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars,
Away from the world, and its toils and its cares,
I've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs.
The Talking Oak
© Alfred Tennyson
Once more the gate behind me falls;
Once more before my face
I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls,
That stand within the chace.
The Four Seasons : Winter
© James Thomson
See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme,
These! that exalt the soul to solemn thought,
Hymn To Spiritual Desire
© Madison Julius Cawein
Come, oh, come and partake
Of necromance banquets of Beauty; and slake
Thy thirst in the waters of Art,
That are drawn from the streams
Of love and of dreams.
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 04:
© Conrad Aiken
She played this tune. And in the middle of it
Abruptly broke it off, letting her hands
Fall in her lap. She sat there so a moment,
With shoulders drooped, then lifted up a rose,
One great white rose, wide opened like a lotos,
And pressed it to her cheek, and closed her eyes.
