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Unheard Post by :bubba Category :Poems Author :Madison Julius Cawein Date :September 2011 Read :2164

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All things are wrought of melody,
Unheard, yet full of speaking spells;
Within the rock, within the tree,
A soul of music dwells.

A mute symphonic sense that thrills
The silent frame of mortal things;
Its heart beats in the ancient hills,
In every flower sings.

To harmony all growth is set--
Each seed is but a music mote,
From which each plant, each violet,
Evolves its purple note.

Compact of melody, the rose
Woos the soft wind with strain on strain
Of crimson; and the lily blows
Its white bars to the rain.

The trees are paeans; and the grass
One long green fugue beneath the sun--
Song is their life; and all shall pass,
Shall cease, when song is done.

(The end)
Madison Julius Cawein's poem: Unheard

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Sleep On! Sleep On!

Sleep On!
Fear no unlicensed entry,Heed no bombastic talk,While guards the British SentryPall Mall and Birdcage Walk.Let European thundersOccasion no alarms,Though diplomatic blundersMay cause a cry "To arms!"Sleep on, ye pale civilians;All thunder-clouds defy:On Europe's countless millionsThe Sentry keeps his eye!Should foreign-born rapscallionsIn London dare to showTheir overgrown battalions,Be sure I'll let you know.Should Russians or NorwegiansPollute our favoured climeWith rough barbaric legions,I'll mention it in time.So sleep in peace, civilians,The Continent defy;While on its countless millionsThe Sentry keeps his eye !(The end)W. S. Gilbert's poem: Sleep On!

The Great Oak Tree The Great Oak Tree

The Great Oak Tree
There grew a little flower'Neath a great oak tree:When the tempest 'gan to lowerLittle heeded she:No need had she to cower,For she dreaded not its power -She was happy in the bowerOf her great oak tree!Sing hey,Lackaday!Let the tears fall freeFor the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!When she found that he was fickle,Was that great oak tree,She was in a pretty pickle,As she well might be -But his gallantries were mickle,For Death followed with his sickle,And her tears began to trickleFor her great oak tree!Sing hey,Lackaday!Let the tears fall freeFor the pretty little flower and the great oak