1. |
Let beauty awake
03:12
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Robert Louis Stevenson
Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams,
Let Beauty awake from rest!
Let Beauty awake for Beauty's sake
In the hour when the birds awake in the brake
And the stars are bright in the west!
Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day,
Awake in the crimson eve!
In the day's dusk end when the shades ascend,
Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend
To render again and receive!
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2. |
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Shall Earth no more inspire thee
Shall Earth no more inspire thee, thou lonely dreamer now?
Since passion may not fire thee, shall Nature cease to bow?
Thy mind is ever moving in regions dark to thee
Recall its useless roving, come back and dwell with me.
I know my mountain breezes enchant and soothe thee still--
I know my sunshine pleases despite thy wayward will.
When day with evening blending sinks from the summer sky,
I've seen thy spirit bending in fond idolatry.
I've watched thee every hour,
I know my mighty sway--
I know my magic power
to drive thy griefs away.
Few hearts to mortals given on earth so wildly pine,
Yet none would ask a Heaven more like the Earth than thine.
Then let my winds caress thee, thy comrade let me be--
Since naught beside can bless thee, return and dwell with me.
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3. |
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Lord Byron (1788 -1824)
So, we'll go no more a-roving
So, we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a roving
By the light of the moon.
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4. |
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Emily Brontë
I'll come when thou art saddest
Laid alone in the darkened room
When the mad day's mirth has vanished
And the smile of joy is banished
From evening's chilly gloom
I'll come when the heart's real feeling
Has entire unbiased sway
And my influence o'er thee stealing
Grief deepening joy congealing
Shall bear thy soul away
Listen: 'tis just the hour
The awful time for thee
Dost thou not feel upon thy soul
A flood of strange sensations roll
Forerunners of a sterner power
Heralds of me!
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5. |
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Emily Dickinson (1830- 1886)
Heart, we will forget him
Heart, we will forget him
You and I tonight.
You may forget the warmth he gave
And I’ll forget the light.
When you have done, pray, tell me
That I my thoughts may dim
Haste! Lest while you are lagging
I may remember him!
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6. |
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Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)
Silent noon
Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass, -
The finger-points look through like rosy blooms
Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms
'Neath billowing clouds that scatter and amass.
All round our nest, far as the eye can pass,
Are golden kingcup fields with silver edge
Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn hedge.
'Tis visible silence, still as the hour glass.
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky: -
So this winged hour is dropt to us from above.
Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,
This close-companioned inarticulate hour
When twofold silence was the song of love.
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7. |
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A. E. Housman (1859 -1936)
Into my heart
Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
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8. |
All day I've toiled
02:17
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Emily Brontë
All day I've toiled
All day I've toiled but not with pain
In learning's golden mine
And now at eventide again
The moonbeams softly shine.
There is no snow upon the ground
No frost on wind or wave
The south wind blew with gentlest sound
And broke their icy grave.
Tis sweet to wander here at night
To watch the winter die
With heart as summer sunshine light
And warm as summer's sky.
O may I never lose the peace
That lulls me gently now
Though time may change my youthful face
And years may shade my brow.
True to myself and true to all
May I be healthful still
And turn away from passion's call
And curb my own wild will.
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9. |
My Soul is awakened
01:38
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Anne Brontë (1820-1849)
My Soul is Awakened
My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring,
And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze;
For, above, and around me,
the wild wind is roaring
Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas.
The long withered grass
in the sunshine is glancing,
The bare trees are tossing
their branches on high;
The dead leaves beneath them
are merrily dancing,
The white clouds are scudding
across the blue sky.
I wish I could see how the ocean is lashing
The foam of its billows
to whirlwinds of spray,
I wish I could see how
its proud waves are dashing
And hear the wild roar
of their thunder today!
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10. |
The caged bird
05:13
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.Emily Brontë
The caged bird
And like myself lone,
Wholly lone,
It sees the day’s long sunshine glow;
And like myself it makes its moan
In unexhausted woe.
Give we the hills our equal prayer:
Earth’s breezy hills and heaven’s blue sea;
We ask for nothing further here
But our own hearts and liberty.
Ah! Could my hands unlock its chain,
How gladly would I watch it soar,
And ne’er regret and ne’er complain
To see its shining eyes no more.
But let me think that if to-day
It pines in cold captivity,
To-morrow both shall soar away
Eternally, entirely free.
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11. |
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Emily Brontë
There should be no despair for you
There should be no despair for you
While nightly stars are burning;
While evening pours its silent dew,
And sunshine gilds the morning.
There should be no despair--though tears
May flow down like a river:
Are not the best beloved of years
Around your heart for ever?
They weep, you weep, it must be so;
Winds sigh as you are sighing,
And winter sheds its grief in snow
Where Autumn's leaves are lying:
Yet, these revive, and from their fate
Your fate cannot be parted:
Then, journey on, if not elate,
Still, never broken-hearted!
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12. |
Proud Songsters
04:43
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Thomas Hardy (1840-1928)
Proud Songsters
The thrushes sing as the sun is going,
And the finches whistle in ones and pairs,
And as it gets dark loud nightingales
In bushes
Pipe, as they can when April wears,
As if all Time were theirs.
These are brand new birds of twelvemonths' growing,
Which a year ago, or less than twain,
No finches were, nor nightingales,
Nor thrushes,
But only particles of grain,
And earth, and air, and rain.
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The Rossettis The Netherlands
The Rossettis are the band around singer Mariska Reijmerink who sets beautiful English poetry to beautiful music. Her excellent band members are pianist Jan-Peter Bast, his partner and violinist Sophie de Rijk and Mariska's long-time friend and drummer Arthur Brenkman. With the four of them they create an enchanting, intimate, tender and yet energetic sound that does credit to the poems. ... more
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