Music

When music sounds, gone is the earth I know,
And all her lovely things even lovelier grow;
Her flowers in vision flame, her forest trees
Lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies.

When music sounds, out of the water rise
Naiads whose beauty dims my waking eyes,
Rapt in strange dreams burns each enchanted face,
With solemn echoing stirs their dwelling-place.

When music sounds, all that I was I am
Ere to this haunt of brooding dust I came;
And from Time's woods break into distant song
The swift-winged hours, as I hasten along.

by Walter de la Mare

Comments (7)

“How easily love leaps out to dreams like these, Who has seen them true. And love that's wakened so Takes all too long to lay asleep again. ” Fab poem!
How easily love leaps out of dreams like these, Who has seen them true. Marvelous expression. Thanks for sharing.
It is a painful, but magical and wonderful experience to have a dream like this when one has suffered a great loss. Visitation dreams can aid the grieving process. Powerful poem...
Hoe easily love leaps out to dreams like these..... A very tender poem.
this is a ood poemg
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