Music is love in search of a word.
Music is Love in search of a word.
If you want to be found stand where the seeker seeks.
Virtues are acquired through endeavor, which rests wholly upon yourself.
Thou And I
So one in heart and thought, I trow,
That thou might'st press the strings and I might draw the bow
And both would meet in music sweet,
Thou and I, I trow.
O Hunger, Hunger, I will harness thee
And make thee harrow all my spirit's glebe.
Of old the blind bard Herve sang so sweet
He made a wolf to plow his land.
My soul is like the oar that momently
Dies in a desperate stress beneath the wave,
Then glitters out again and sweeps the sea:
Each second I'm new-born from some new grave.
To Dr. Thomas Shearer
Presenting a portrait-bust of the author.
Since you, rare friend! have tied my living tongue
With thanks more large than man e'er said or sung,
So let the dumbness of this image be
My eloquence, and still interpret me.
A song of Love
Hey, rose, just born
Twin to a thorn;
Was't so with you, O Love and Scorn?
Sweet eyes that smiled,
Now wet and wild:
O Eye and Tear- mother and child.
Well: Love and Pain
Be kinfolks twain;
Yet would, Oh would I could Love again.
The Palm And The Pine
From the German of Heine.
In the far North stands a Pine-tree, lone,
Upon a wintry height;
It sleeps: around it snows have thrown
A covering of white.
It dreams forever of a Palm
That, far i' the Morning-land,
Stands silent in a most sad calm
Midst of the burning sand.