Music's Empire

Related poetry:

1. Jubal and Tubal Cain Canadian Jubal sang of the Wrath of God And the curse of thistle and thorn But Tubal got him a pointed rod, And scrabbled the earth for corn. Old old as that early mould, Young as the sprouting grain Yearly green is the strife between Jubal and Tubal Cain! Jubal sang of the new-found sea, […]...
2. Pink Champagne (for Digby Fairweather) Not blues in twelve But there is joy And pink champagne, The maker’s music Trading eights In syncopated synergy From Dixieland to Rock ‘n’ Roll, And here the cornet-master Leads in tones A trumpet cannot blow. The sidemen nod their harmonies, Engrossed; Their music coursing Through an energy of swing; Piano-player’s fingers Dancing round the […]...
3. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
4. Careers Father is quite the greatest poet That ever lived anywhere. You say you’re going to write great music – I chose that first: it’s unfair. Besides, now I can’t be the greatest painter and do Christ and angels, or lovely pears and apples and grapes on a green dish, or storms at sea, or anything […]...
5. Orpheus with his Lute Made Trees Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Everything that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In […]...
6. Orpheus ? or John Fletcher. ORPHEUS with his lute made trees And the mountain tops that freeze Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads […]...
7. Turn, O Libertad TURN, O Libertad, for the war is over, (From it and all henceforth expanding, doubting no more, resolute, sweeping the world,) Turn from lands retrospective, recording proofs of the past; From the singers that sing the trailing glories of the past; From the chants of the feudal world-the triumphs of kings, slavery, caste; Turn to […]...
8. My Lute Awake My lute awake! perform the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And end that I have now begun; For when this song is sung and past, My lute be still, for I have done. As to be heard where ear is none, As lead to grave in marble stone, My song may pierce […]...
9. Israfel In Heaven a spirit doth dwell “Whose heart-strings are a lute”; None sing so wildly well As the angel Israfel, And the giddy stars (so legends tell), Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell Of his voice, all mute. Tottering above In her highest noon, The enamored moon Blushes with love, While, to listen, the red […]...
10. Easter Rise, heart, thy lord is risen. Sing his praise Without delays, Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise With him may’st rise: That, as his death calcinиd thee to dust, His life may make thee gold, and, much more, just. Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part With all thy art, The […]...
11. Put up my lute! Put up my lute! What of my Music! Since the sole ear I cared to charm Passive as Granite laps My Music Sobbing will suit as well as psalm! Would but the “Memnon” of the Desert Teach me the strain That vanquished Him When He surrendered to the Sunrise Maybe that would awaken them!...
12. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
13. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
14. Sandpipers Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes. Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles-they write in the morning, it is gone at noon-they write at noon, it is gone at night. Pity the land, the sea, the ten mile flats, pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and […]...
15. One Way Of Love All June I bound the rose in sheaves. Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves And strew them where Pauline may pass. She will not turn aside? Alas! Let them lie. Suppose they die? The chance was they might take her eye. II. How many a month I strove to suit These stubborn fingers […]...
16. Echo How sweet the answer Echo makes To music at night, When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, And far away, o’er lawns and lakes, Goes answering light. Yet Love hath echoes truer far, And far more sweet, Than e’er beneath the moonlight’s star, Of horn or lute, or soft guitar, The songs repeat. ‘Tis […]...
17. Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...
18. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
19. Sailing To Byzantium I That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees – Those dying generations – at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing […]...
20. One Sister have I in our house One Sister have I in our house, And one, a hedge away. There’s only one recorded, But both belong to me. One came the road that I came And wore my last year’s gown The other, as a bird her nest, Builded our hearts among. She did not sing as we did It was a […]...
21. Ace Shaw I never saw any difference Between playing cards for money And selling real estate, Practicing law, banking, or anything else. For everything is chance. Nevertheless Seest thou a man diligent in business? He shall stand before Kings!...
22. Sing Sing Music Was Given Sing sing Music was given To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving; Souls here, like planets in heaven, By harmony’s laws alone are kept moving. Beauty may boast of her eyes and her cheeks, But Love from the lips his true archery wings; And she, who but feathers the dart when she speaks, At […]...
23. Ami Green Not “a youth with hoary head and haggard eye,” But an old man with a smooth skin And black hair! I had the face of a boy as long as I lived, And for years a soul that was stiff and bent, In a world which saw me just as a jest, To be hailed […]...
24. Aftermath I learnt to write to you in happier days, And every letter was a piece I chipped From off my heart, a fragment newly clipped From the mosaic of life; its blues and grays, Its throbbing reds, I gave to earn your praise. To make a pavement for your feet I stripped My soul for […]...
25. Song For Saint Cecilia's Day, 1687 From Harmony, from heavenly Harmony This universal frame began: When nature underneath a heap Of jarring atoms lay And could not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high, Arise, ye more than dead! Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry In order to their stations leap, And Music’s power obey. From […]...
26. Lines WHEN the lamp is shatter’d, The light in the dust lies dead; When the cloud is scatter’d, The rainbow’s glory is shed; When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remember’d not When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot. As music and splendour Survive not the lamp and the lute, The heart’s […]...
27. We play at Paste We play at Paste Till qualified, for Pearl Then, drop the Paste And deem ourself a fool The Shapes though were similar And our new Hands Learned Gem-Tactics Practicing Sands...
28. When The Lamp Is Shattered When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead When the cloud is scattered, The rainbow’s glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot. As music and splendour Survive not the lamp and the lute, The heart’s […]...
29. The World is with Me The world is with me, and its many cares, Its woes its wants the anxious hopes and fears That wait on all terrestrial affairs The shades of former and of future years Forboding fancies and prophetic tears, Quelling a spirit that was once elate. Heavens! what a wilderness the world appears, Where youth, and mirth, […]...
30. A Death-Bed 1918 This is the State above the Law. The State exists for the State alone.” [This is a gland at the back of the jaw, And an answering lump by the collar-bone.], Some die shouting in gas or fire; Some die silent, by shell and shot. Some die desperate, caught on the wire – Some […]...
31. My Voice Within this restless, hurried, modern world We took our hearts’ full pleasure – You and I, And now the white sails of our ship are furled, And spent the lading of our argosy. Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan, For very weeping is my gladness fled, Sorrow has paled my young mouth’s vermilion, […]...
32. Poem 15 RIng ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne, And leaue your wonted labors for this day: This day is holy; doe ye write it dovvne, That ye for euer it remember may. This day the sunne is in his chiefest hight, With Barnaby the bright, >From whence declining daily by degrees, He somewhat […]...
33. In Romney Marsh As I went down to Dymchurch Wall, I heard the South sing o’er the land I saw the yellow sunlight fall On knolls where Norman churches stand. And ringing shrilly, taut and lithe, Within the wind a core of sound, The wire from Romney town to Hythe Along its airy journey wound. A veil of […]...
34. He gave away his Life He gave away his Life To Us Gigantic Sum A trifle in his own esteem But magnified by Fame Until it burst the Hearts That fancied they could hold When swift it slipped its limit And on the Heavens unrolled ‘Tis Ours to wince and weep And wonder and decay By Blossoms gradual process He […]...
35. The Wind Sings Welcome in Early Spring (For Paula)THE GRIP of the ice is gone now. The silvers chase purple. The purples tag silver. They let out their runners Here where summer says to the lilies: “Wish and be wistful, Circle this wind-hunted, wind-sung water.” Come along always, come along now. You for me, kiss me, pull me by the ear. Push […]...
36. A Statesman's Holiday I lived among great houses, Riches drove out rank, Base drove out the better blood, And mind and body shrank. No Oscar ruled the table, But I’d a troop of friends That knowing better talk had gone Talked of odds and ends. Some knew what ailed the world But never said a thing, So I […]...
37. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
38. Small Wire My faith Is a great weight Hung on a small wire, As doth the spider Hang her baby on a thin web, As doth the vine, Twiggy and wooden, Hold up grapes Like eyeballs, As many angels Dance on the head of a pin. God does not need Too much wire to keep Him there, […]...
39. A Myth A FLOATING, a floating Across the sleeping sea, All night I heard a singing bird Upon the topmast tree. “Oh, came you from the isles of Greece Or from the banks of Seine; Or off some tree in forests free, Which fringe the western main?” “I came not off the old world Nor yet from […]...
40. UPON JULIA'S VOICE When I thy singing next shall hear, I’ll wish I might turn all to ear, To drink-in notes and numbers, such As blessed souls can’t hear too much Then melted down, there let me lie Entranced, and lost confusedly; And by thy music strucken mute, Die, and be turn’d into a Lute....