Poem Hunter
(1873 - 1958 / Kent / England)


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.

User Rating: 3,3 / 5 ( 52 votes ) 12

Comments (12)

A world without music. A quiet and lonely road. A amazing and wonderful poem.
Heart touching
My heart just sunk
What a beautifully written ode to music, Thank you
providing it's the right music it can raise everyone's spirits.
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