Music poems

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Liturgy: Visiting P.K.

© Meyer Bruce

There is a woman floating in a windowTransparentChristmas wreaths in passing housesShine now in eye and now in hair, in heart.-- P.K. Page, "Reflection in a Train Window"

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Invitation

© McGimpsey David

Please join me on the occasion of mythirty-ninth birthday

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Spanish Waters

© John Masefield

Spanish waters, Spanish waters, you are ringing in my ears,Like a slow sweet piece of music from the grey forgotten years;Telling tales, and beating tunes, and bringing weary thoughts to meOf the sandy beach at Muertos, where I would that I could be

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Breath

© Marquis Donald Robert Perry

We are the shaken slaves of Breath:For logic leaves the race unstirred;But cadence, and the vibrant word,Are lords of life, are lords of death.

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The Girl behind the Man behind the Gun

© MacDonald Wilson Pugsley

You have seen the line of khaki swinging grandly down the street,You have heard the band blare out Britannic songs;You have read a ton of papers and you've thrown them at your feet,And your brain's a battlefield for fighting throngs

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April

© Andrew Lang

April, pride of woodland ways, Of glad days,April, bringing hope of prime,To the young flowers that beneath Their bud sheathAre guarded in their tender time;

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Endymion

© John Keats

BOOK IIts loveliness increases; it will neverPass into nothingness; but still will keepA bower quiet for us, and a sleepFull of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing

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The Vanity of Human Wishes

© Samuel Johnson

Let observation with extensive view,

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London: A Poem, in Imitation of the Third Satire of Juvenal

© Samuel Johnson

Though grief and fondness in my breast rebel,

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Shadow River: Muskoka

© Emily Pauline Johnson

A stream of tender gladness,Of filmy sun, and opal tinted skies ;Of warm midsummer air that lightly liesIn mystic rings,Where softly swingsThe music of a thousand wingsThat almost tones to sadness.

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Flint and Feather

© Emily Pauline Johnson

Ojistoh1.2Of him whose name breathes bravery and life1.3And courage to the tribe that calls him chief.1.4I am Ojistoh, his white star, and he1.5Is land, and lake, and sky--and soul to me.

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In Darkness

© Hyde Robin

Lying awake in the darkI have suddenly thought(At the clasp of unseen fingers under my head),"God is no moreThan any apple-bough, then,Where the birds of the air have nest --Than the little, hardly-soughtHome of the field-mouse, high in the tawny grain,Where the spoiler looks in vain;Than the lowly earthen doorWhere the vixen runs to hide, as the bold hunt passesIn flurry of blood-red music and blood-crazed men;Than the bending meadow grassesUnder the breast of the lark

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Half Moon

© Hyde Robin

The little pools of starlight splashAgainst the poplars' slender lines;The moon is like a golden comb,Caught in the tresses of the pines.

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Growing Old

© Hyde Robin

This it is to grow old,That I shall loseThe gift of laughter at small and simple things;And, if ever old dreams fly past me, the brush of wings,Damp with Elysian dews,Will seem strange and cold

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The Forsaken

© Hyde Robin

These we may help no more

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Defeat

© Hyde Robin

But that was no defeat. Defeat, my friend,Is a simple thing, and past your understanding.Defeat is no cry in the night, no sudden bandingTogether of men beleaguered, no comrade glance at the end ...

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An Agnostic Hymn

© Huxley Henrietta Anne Heathorn

Oh! not the unreasoning God for me,Foreseeing, knowing allThat in the wondrous world he madeHis creatures should befall.