Sonnet LVII: Like As the Lute
Like as the lute that joys or else dislikes
As in his art that plays upon the same,
So sounds my Muse according as she strikes
On my heart strings high tun'd unto her fame.
Her touch doth cause the warble of the sound
Which here I yield in lamentable wise,
A wailing descant on the sweetest ground,
Whose due reports give honor to her eyes.
Else harsh my style, untunable my Muse,
Hoarse sounds the voice that praiseth not her name;
If any pleasing relish here I use,
Then judge the world her beauty gives the same.
O happy ground that makes the music such,
And blessed hand that gives so sweet a touch.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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I Can Hear Music
Words and music by phil spector, ellie greenwich and jeff barry
This is the way I always dreamed it would be
The way that it is,o-oh,when you are holding me
I never had a love of my own
Maybe thats why when were all alone
I can hear music
I can hear music
Sounds of the city baby seem to disappear
Oh well I can hear music
Sweet sweet music
When ever you touch me baby
Whenever youre near
Loving you it keeps me satisfied
And I cant explain,oh no,the way Im feeling inside
You look at me we kiss and then
I close my eyes and here it comes again
I can hear music
I can hear music
Sounds of the city baby seem to disappear
Oh well I can hear music
Sweet sweet music
When ever you touch me baby
Whenever youre near
I can hear music
Sweet sweet music
When ever you touch me baby
Whenever youre near
I can hear music
Sweet sweet music
When ever you touch me baby
Whenever youre near
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet 77: Those Looks, Whose Beams Be Joy
Those looks, whose beams be joy, whose motion is delight,
That face, whose lecture shows what perfect beauty is:
That presence, which doth give dark hearts a living light:
That grace, which Venus weeps that she herself doth miss:
That hand, which without touch holds more than Atlas might:
Those lips, which make death's pay a mean price for a kiss:
That skin, skin, whose passe-praise hue scorns this poor term of white:
Those words, which do sublime the quintessence of bliss:
That voice, which makes the soul plant himself in the ears:
That conversation sweet, where such high comforts be,
As constru'd in true speech, the name of heav'n it bears,
Makes me in my best thought and quiet'st judgment see,
That in no more but these I might be fully blest:
Yet ah, my maiden Muse doth blush to tell the rest.
poem by Philip Sidney
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A Pastoral.
Sweet birds! that sit and sing among the shady valleys,
And see how sweetly Phyllis walks amid her garden alleys,
Go round about her bower, and sing as ye are bidden:
To her is only known his faith that from the world is hidden,
And she among you all that hath the sweetest voice,
Go chirp of him that never told, yet never changed, his voice.
And not forget his faith that lived forever loved
Yet never made his fancy known, nor ever favor moved;
And ever let your ground of all your grace be this-
'To you, to you, to you the due of love and honor is,
On you, on you, on you our music all attendeth,
For as on you our Muse begun, in you all music endeth.'
poem by Nicholas Breton
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Sonnet LIII: Drawn
Drawn by th'attractive virtue of her eyes,
My touch'd heart turns it to that happy coast;
My joyful North, where all my fortune lies,
The level of my hopes desired most.
There where my Delia , fairer than the Sun,
Deckt with her youth whereon the world smileth,
Joys in that honor which her beauty won,
Th'eternal volume which her fame compileth.
Flourish, fair Albion, glory of the North,
Neptune's darling held between his arms,
Divided from the world as better worth,
Kept for himself, defended from all harms.
Still let disarmed peace deck her and thee,
And Muse-foe Mars abroad far foster'd be.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Courtney Pine
Listen to me now,
For there is a sound of music flowing in the air;
Listen to me now,
For the melody of a realm is about to touch you and teach you;
And, to 'Courtney Pine' i do pay my respect.
Listen to me now,
For the message will infuse your brains with Jazz! !
And, to 'Courtney Pine' i do give my respect;
However, it is very important to listen to the words of our elders.
The Jazz music of 'Courtney Pine',
it is very important to learn from him as well;
So, listen to the sweet music of Jazz that he plays!
For the melody of this realm is about to touch you and teach you.
to the muse of music,
From the lessons he learnt from 'Mac Tontoh';
And to swing up with his mind so sweet! !
From the Jazz world of love and to the Jazz world of peace,
But, you've got to be somebody for someone on this earth.
Hope is a beautiful mind in your heart's desires,
But you are of the courteous order of the realms!
And, you are unifying us with your Jazz Music;
For, you're paired in nature's endeavours.
'Courtney Pine',
Nurturing everybody with the 'Order of the British Empire' (O.B.E.) !
But, you are placed in nature's endeavours to educate the youth;
And like the muse of your love when you paid Ghana a visit.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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When to her Lute Corinna Sings
When to her lute Corinna sings,
Her voice revives the leaden strings,
And doth in highest notes appear,
As any challenged echo clear;
But when she doth of mourning speak,
E'en with her sighs, the strings do break,
And as her lute doth live or die,
Led by her passion, so must I:
For when of pleasure she doth sing,
My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring,
But if she doth of sorrow speak,
E'en from my heart the strings do break
poem by Thomas Campion
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Corinna
When to her lute Corinna sings,
Her voice revives the leaden strings,
And doth in highest notes appear
As any challenged echo clear.
But when she doth of mourning speak,
Even with her sighs the strings do break.
And as her lute doth live or die;
Led by her passion, so must I.
For when of pleasure she doth sing,
My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring;
But if she doth of sorrow speak,
Even from my heart the strings do break.
poem by Thomas Campion
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Aglaia: a Pastoral
Sylvan Muses, can ye sing
Of the beauty of the Spring?
Have ye seen on earth that sun
That a heavenly course hath run?
Have ye lived to see those eyes
Where the pride of beauty lies?
Have ye heard that heavenly voice
That may make Love's heart rejoice?
Have ye seen Aglaia, she
Whom the world may joy to see?
If ye have not seen all these,
Then ye do but labour leese;
While ye tune your pipes to play
But an idle roundelay;
And in sad Discomfort's den
Everyone go bite her pen;
That she cannot reach the skill
How to climb that blessed hill
Where Aglaia's fancies dwell,
Where exceedings do excell,
And in simple truth confess
She is that fair shepherdess
To whom fairest flocks a-field
Do their service duly yield:
On whom never Muse hath gazèd
But in musing is amazèd;
Where the honour is too much
For their highest thoughts to touch;
Thus confess, and get ye gone
To your places every one;
And in silence only speak
When ye find your speech too weak.
Blessèd be Aglaia yet,
Though the Muses die for it;
Come abroad, ye blessèd Muses,
Ye that Pallas chiefly chooses,
When she would command a creature
In the honour of Love's nature,
For the sweet Aglaia fair
All to sweeten all the air,
Is abroad this blessèd day;
Haste ye, therefore, come away:
And to kill Love's maladies
Meet her with your melodies.
Flora hath been all about,
And hath brought her wardrobe out;
With her fairest, sweetest flowers,
All to trim up all your bowers.
Bid the shepherds and their swains
See the beauty of their plains;
And command them with their flocks
To do reverence on the rocks;
Where they may so happy be
As her shadow but to see:
Bid the birds in every bush
Not a bird to be at hush:
But to sit, and chirp, and sing
To the beauty of the Spring:
Call the sylvan nymphs together,
Bid them bring their musicks hither.
Trees their barky silence break,
Crack yet, though they cannot speak
Bid the purest, whitest swan
Of her feathers make her fan;
Let the hound the hare go chase;
Lambs and rabbits run at base;
Flies be dancing in the sun,
While the silk-worm's webs are spun;
Hang a fish on every hook
As she goes along the brook;
So with all your sweetest powers
Entertain her in your bowers;
Where her ear may joy to hear
How ye make your sweetest quire;
And in all your sweetest vein
Still Aglaia strike her strain;
But when she her walk doth turn,
Then begin as fast to mourn;
All your flowers and garlands wither
Put up all your pipes together;
Never strike a pleasing strain
Till she come abroad again.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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The Music Comes And Goes
by: Tripp
the soothing sounds of a piano to a guitar the sounds they make
the feeling It brings when the piano sings playing the strings of a guitar
the times come and goes as the music grows
in the heart of those who play
thinking of that one thing that brings epiphany to that instrument you play
as you hold and take care playing with hopes and dreams the music slips through
and sings
i can't get enough of what it does to me
when i hear that sound that voice
the music she brings to my heart when I'm with her
her voice is the epiphany to my heart
holding on to her the music keeps playing
my heart keeps beating as the music plays
i keep dreaming dreaming holding on hoping this song will never end
dreaming to fall in love with this instrument forever
she is my instrument
poem by Preston Trip
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Music In The Heart
Music of the heart sounds in the orchestra
For others to judge according to taste;
The pumping of blood made you nearly ask
For the music to stop and make farewell.
O how the heart senses your happy tune!
The melody survives the laughter;
O how the harmonious smell of wooden instruments
Involves us with sound and the astonishment!
Music is a happiness, music is sound,
More than a thought, more than a word;
May wise musicians design the good noise
And turn it into a message of hope.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Wise Words
Fantastic numerals combined with wise words,
And of your brilliant wisdom in the land of your muse;
But your love to me is like a flowing stream,
And i will live on to respect you always.
Your raised me high with your love that i could touch the sky!
And like news around the world with the muse of love;
But the news of this world is like the echoes of your love! !
And like walking through the rain with you beside me,
For the state of your mind is always with the muse of joy.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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She's A Butterfly
She remembers when she first got her wings
And how she opened up that day
she learned to sing
Then the colors came, erased the
black and white
And her whole world changed
when she realized
[Chorus:]
She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky
Nothing's ever gonna bring her down
And everywhere she goes
Everybody knows she's so glad to be alive
She's a butterfly
Like the purest light in a darkened world
So much hope inside such a lovely girl
You should see her fly, it's almost magical
It makes you wanna cry, she's so beautiful
[Chorus]
God bless the butterfly,
give her the strength to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
God bless the butterfly,
give her strength to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
[Chorus]
God bless the butterfly,
give her the strength to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
God bless the butterfly,
give her the strenght to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
song performed by by Martina Mcbride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love You Out Loud
I sit in my living room thinking of you
And the feelings I fear are coming true
And everything about you is wrong I know it
But I still taste you on my tongue
And I still breathe you in my lungs
And I wish I could stop breaking down
Wish I could love you out loud
Wish I could love you out loud
But I'll just keep it to myself
Wish I could hear how it sounds
To be with you and no one else
Don't make a sound
Don't tell a soul
It's 7:00am and I just want to call you
And tell you I'm falling in love
But, there's someone else inside these four walls
If she smells you on my skin
I can't let her know where I've been
I wish I could be with you now
Wish I could love you out loud
Wish I could love you out loud
But I'll just keep it to myself
Wish I could hear how it sounds
To be with you and no one else
Wish I could love you out loud
Because I'm under your spell
Wish I could tell the whole world
But I'll just keep it to myself
Don't make a sound
Don't tell a soul
Don't tell them anything
And I won't let you go
Don't say a word
Don't tell a soul
And I shiver at the thought of you
I can't believe that you love me too
And we quiver when we touch
I can't believe I love you so much
And I hate it when you walk away
I know we can't go on this way
But there's magic when we touch
I can't believe I love you so much
Wish I could love you out loud
Wish I could hear how it sounds
Wish I could love you out loud
Wish I could hear how it sounds
Wish I could love you out loud
But I'll just keep it to myself
Wish I could hear how it sounds
To be with you and no one else
Wish I could love you out loud
Because I'm under your spell
Wish I could tell the whole world
But I'll just keep it to myself
Don't make a sound
Don't tell a soul
Don't tell them anything
And I won't let you go
Wish I could love you out loud
But I'll just keep it to myself
Wish I could hear how it sounds
To be with you and no one else
Wish I could love you out loud
Because I'm under your spell
Wish I could tell the whole world
But I'll just keep it to myself
Wish I could love you out loud
Wish I could hear how it sounds
Wish I could love you out loud
Wish I could hear how it sounds
Wish I could love you out loud
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To His Lute
My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow
With thy green mother in some shady grove,
When immelodious winds but made thee move,
And birds their ramage did on thee bestow.
Since that dear Voice which did thy sounds approve,
Which wont in such harmonious strains to flow,
Is reft from Earth to tune those spheres above,
What art thou but a harbinger of woe?
Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more,
But orphans' wailings to the fainting ear;
Each stroke a sigh, each sound draws forth a tear;
For which be silent as in woods before:
Or if that any hand to touch thee deign,
Like widowed turtle, still her loss complain.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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Ucassi
Your muse,
For it all;
My muse,
For it all;
And like Ucassi your neighbour!
But, i am ready to share my sweet love with you.
Her own style,
My own style,
Your own style,
His own style,
Our own styles,
With the cloud, the rain and the storm! !
But, do not give up on your dreams.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sonnet XIV
While I have tears that start into my eyes,
At memories of joys that we have known
And while my voice, still master of its own,
Is not yet choked with sobbing and with sighs.
While still my hand has cunning to devise,
A lover's cadence to the lute's soft tone
And while in understanding you alone,
I no more wisdom need to make me wise.
How could I want, as yet, that I were dead ?
And when these eyes have no more tears to shed,
My voice is hoarse and my hands lost their art.
When no longer can my tormented heart
Declare itself in love, then I will pray
For Death to blacken out my brightest day.
poem by Louise Labe
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Sounds
What are the sounds we love to hear,
the sounds that bring us joy?
They are all the sounds we've listened to,
sounds that don't destroy
how you feel or how you react
when they reach your ear.
They touch a certain part of you
that sometimes brings a tear
of joy.
A child's laughter so innocent and pure,
a rolling wave down at the shore,
a sound of comfort from a spoken word,
a sound of wind chimes in the air,
a sound of silence while in prayer,
a sound of white noise when you sleep,
a sound of joyful tears you weep.
These sounds and many, many more
can change a person's mood.
They soothe your body and your mind
so nothing can intrude
upon your joy.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Music
Music is an art
Music is presided over by the Muses
Music combines sounds in a pleasing way
Music has common elements.
Music has pitch and melody
Music has harmony and rhythm
Music has tempo and meter
Music has sonic qualities of timbre.
Music is euphony or sweet sound
Music has harmonious qualities
Music is inspirational
Music opens the soul.
Music is energizing
Music is enriching
Music makes one happy
Music is relaxing.
Music is soothing
Music is entertainment
Music is lovable
Music is stirring.
Music moves one to tears
Music gives a spark
Music tunes a special memory
Music is a form of therapy.
Music fills with spiritual attunement
Music is a personal experience
Music takes us along the road of life
Music is the corner stone of every society.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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To his Friend Master R. L., In Praise of Music and Poetry
If music and sweet poetry agree,
As they must needs (the sister and the brother),
Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me,
Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other.
Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense;
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such
As, passing all conceit, needs no defence.
Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound
That Ph{oe}bus' lute (the queen of music), makes;
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd
Whenas himself to singing he betakes.
One god is god of both (as poets feign),
One knight loves both, and both in thee remai
poem by Richard Barnfield
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The Graph
Intelligently plotted and emotionally powered is my love for you,
But this is the graph that is plotted to your heart.
Of the graph and the muse,
Like the works of an act to swing about;
But my imaginations are for you my sweet one.
Of the graph and my style,
Intelligently plotted with your love to meet my heart;
But as a novelist, i have the touch of the writer's pen.
You are the graph of my love and,
The writer's pen that acts a lot for you to kiss me;
But the muse of my love will always be with you.
I am an influential Philosopher,
And i am ready to reach out to the whole world with my love;
But the graph of your love is always on my mind.
Let your emotional love touch me with a kiss,
And let your sweet breasts do the act;
For nicely plotted is your love to my heart.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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