Music poems
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Sunday Morning Bells
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
FROM the near city comes the clang of bells:
Their hundred jarring diverse tones combine
In one faint misty harmony, as fine
As the soft note yon winter robin swells.--
Manfred: A Dramatic Poem. Act II.
© George Gordon Byron
CHAMOIS HUNTER
No, no -- yet pause -- thou must not yet go forth:
Thy mind and body are alike unfit
To trust each other, for some hours, at least;
When thou art better, I will be thy guide--
But whither?
Midnight
© Thomas Hood
Unfathomable Night! how dost thou sweep
Over the flooded earth, and darkly hide
The mighty city under thy full tide;
Making a silent palace for old Sleep,
Elegy For Poe With The Music Of A Carnival Inside It
© Larry Levis
There is this sunny place where I imagine him.
A park on a hill whose grass wants to turn
Into dust, & would do so if it weren't
For the rain, & the fact that it is only grass
The Factory Girl
© John Arthur Phillips
She wasn't the least bit pretty,
And only the least bit gay;
Ode To The Cuckoo
© John Logan
Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove!
Thou messenger of Spring!
Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat,
And woods thy welcome ring.
Idyl
© Emma Lazarus
The swallows made twitter incessant,
The thrushes were wild with their mirth.
The ways and the woods were made pleasant,
And the flowering nooks of the earth.
When Friends Drop In
© Edgar Albert Guest
It may be I'm old-fashioned, but the times I like the best
Are not the splendid parties with the women gaily dressed,
And the music tuned for dancing and the laughter of the throng,
With a paid comedian's antics or a hired musician's song,
But the quiet times of friendship, with the chuckles and the grin,
And the circle at the fireside when a few good friends drop in.
The Renewal
© Robert Laurence Binyon
No more of sorrow, the world's old distress,
Nor war of thronging spirits numberless,
Immortal ardours in brief days confined,
No more the languid fever of mankind
The Roman: A Dramatic Poem
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
SCENE I.
A Plain in Italy-an ancient Battle-field. Time, Evening.
Persons.-Vittorio Santo, a Missionary of Freedom. He has gone out, disguised as a Monk, to preach the Unity of Italy, the Overthrow of Austrian Domination, and the Restoration of a great Roman Republic.--A number of Youths and Maidens, singing as they dance. 'The Monk' is musing.
Enter Dancers.
The Zenana
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
And fragrant though the flowers are breathing,
From far and near together wreathing,
They are not those she used to wear,
Upon the midnight of her hair.
John Ford: VI
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
HEW hard the marble from the mountains heart
Where hardest night holds fast in iron gloom
The Story Of A Soul.
© James Brunton Stephens
WHO can say "Thus far, no farther," to the tide of his own nature?
Who can mould the spirit's fashion to the counsel of his will?
The Inn of Apollo
© Alfred Noyes
Have you supped at the Inn of Apollo,
While the last light fades from the West?
Has the Lord of the Sun, at the world's end,
Poured you his ripest and best?
O, there's wine in that Inn of Apollo;
Ballade Of The Voyage To Cythera
© Andrew Lang
Sad eyes! the blue sea laughs, as heretofore.
Ah, singing birds your happy music pour!
Ah, poets, leave the sordid earth awhile;
Flit to these ancient gods we still adore:
"It may be we shall touch the happy isle!"
Mystic and Cavalier
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
GO from me: I am one of those who fall.
What! hath no cold wind swept your heart at all,
A Reed Shaken In The Wind
© Madison Julius Cawein
To say to hope,--Take all from me,
And grant me naught:
The rose, the song, the melody,
The word, the thought:
Then all my life bid me be slave,--
Is all I crave.
Love's Worship Restored
© Robert Fuller Murray
O Love, thine empire is not dead,
Nor will we let thy worship go,
