Music poems

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Music

© William Ernest Henley

Down the quiet eve,
Thro' my window with the sunset
Pipes to me a distant organ
Foolish ditties;

A Christmas Carol

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I.
The shepherds went their hasty way,
And found the lowly stable-shed
Where the Virgin-Mother lay:

The Burgomeister's Well

© Isabella Valancy Crawford

A peaceful spot, a little street,

So still between the double roar

No wiser we than men of heretofore
To find thy sacred fountains guarded fast;
Enough, thy flood makes green our human shore,
As Nilus Egypt, rolling down his vast
His fertile flood, that murmurs evermore
Of gods dethroned, and empires in the past.

Memnon

© Leslie Holdsworth Allen

When I was a burst of thunder

Born on the Nubian cliffs,

Pompeii

© Thomas Babbington Macaulay

A Poem Which Obtained the Chancellor's Medal at the Cambridge Commencement, July 1819.

Oh! land to Memory and to Freedom dear,

A Morning Exercise

© William Wordsworth

Through border wilds where naked Indians stray,
Myriads of notes attest her subtle skill;
A feathered task-master cries, "WORK AWAY!"
And, in thy iteration, "WHIP POOR WILL!"
Is heard the spirit of a toil-worn slave,
Lashed out of life, not quiet in the grave.

Evening

© Annie McCarer Darlington

'Tis Evening! soul enchanting hour,
And queenly silence reigns supreme;
A shade is cast o'er lake and bower,
All nature sinks beneath the power
Of sweet oblivion's dream.

Youth In Memory

© George Meredith

Days, when the ball of our vision

Had eagles that flew unabashed to sun;

Music

© Charles Harpur

Like sunrise when its conquering glow
Smites through the vapours cold,
Till all their ragged inlets flow
With floods of burning gold.

Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Musician's Tale; The Ballad of Carmilhan - I.

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

At Stralsund, by the Baltic Sea,
Within the sandy bar,
At sunset of a summer's day,
Ready for sea, at anchor lay
The good ship Valdemar.

Street Music

© Lesbia Harford

There's a band in the street, there's a band in the street.
It will play you a tune for a penny
It will play you a tune, you a tune, you a tune,
And you, though you haven't got any,

By The Fireside : The Singers

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

God sent his Singers upon earth
With songs of sadness and of mirth,
That they might touch the hearts of men,
And bring them back to heaven again.

Sumner

O Mother State! the winds of March
Blew chill o'er Auburn's Field of God,
Where, slow, beneath a leaden arch
Of sky, thy mourning children trod.

The Swamp

FOR one whole day and a long night through
We made our camp
In a she-oak grove by a coastal swamp.
Our tent gleamed white in the she-oak trees,

To The Beloved--A Lament

Beloved, thou art like a tune that idle fingers
Play on a window-pane.
The time is there, the form of music lingers;
But O thou sweetest strain,
Where is thy soul? Thou liest i' the wind and rain.

The Ring And The Book - Chapter VI - Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Again the morning found me. I will work,
Tie down my foolish thoughts. Thank God so far!
I have saved her from a scandal, stopped the tongues
Had broken else into a cackle and hiss
Around the noble name. Duty is still
Wisdom: I have been wise. So the day wore.

The Man of Sentiment

Part One
[A walled garden of York. It is an August Sunday, and the baying of deep church-bells is blown faintly in a warm wind. Laurence Sterne, prebendary, aged forty-six, and Catherine de Fromantel, a girl who sings at Ranelagh, are dawdling through the arbours, and pause at a path which runs between hedges and cypress-trees round a corner some fifty yards away. Catherine has walked down such a path before, it is to be feared, and halts cautiously upon its fringes.]
Laurence:
Nay, 'tis no Devil's walk,