<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374536" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To Mr. Henry Lawes, Who Had Then Newly Set a Song of Mine</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Verse makes heroic virtue live;<br>But you can life to verses give.<br>As, when in open air we blow,<br>The breath, though strained, sounds flat and low;<br>But if a trumpet take the blast,<br>It lifts it high, and makes it last:<br>So in your airs and our numbers dressed,<br>Make a shrill sally from the breast<br>Of nymphs, who, singing what we penned,<br>Our passions to themselves commend;<br>While love, victorious with thy art,<br>Governs at once their voice and heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You, by the help of tune and time,<br>Can make that song which was but rhyme.<br>Noy pleading, no man doubts the cause;<br>Or questions verses set by Lawes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As a Church window, thick with paint,<br>Lets in a light but dim and faint, <br>So others, with division, hide<br>The light of sense, the poet's pride;<br>But you alone may truly boast<br>That not a syllable is lost:<br>The writer's and the setter's skill<br>At once the ravished ears do fill.<br>Let those which only warble long,<br>And gargle in their throats a song,<br>Content themselves with <br>ut, re, mi<br>:<br>Let words, and sense, be set by thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edmund+Waller">Edmund Waller</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374536" data-title="To Mr. Henry Lawes, Who Had Then Newly Set a Song of Mine de Edmund Waller" data-description="Verse makes heroic virtue live; But you can life to verses give. As, when in open air we blow, The breath, though strained, sounds flat and low; But if a trumpet take the blast, It lifts it high, and makes it last: So in your airs and our numbers ..."></div> </div> </div>

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