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    Music, and Other Poems
    Music, and Other Poems
    Music, and Other Poems
    Ebook112 pages46 minutes

    Music, and Other Poems

    By Henry Van Dyke

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    Music, and Other Poems
    Author

    Henry Van Dyke

    Henry Van Dyke (1928–2011) was born in Allegan, Michigan, and grew up in Montgomery, Alabama, where his parents were professors at Alabama State College. He served in the Army in occupied Germany, playing flute in the 427th Marching Band. There he abandoned his early ambition to become a concert pianist and began to write. In 1958, after attending the University of Michigan on the G.I. Bill and living in Ann Arbor, he moved to New York, where he spent the rest of his life. Henry taught creative writing part-time at Kent State University from 1969 until his retirement in 1993, and was the author of four novels, including Blood of Strawberries, a sequel to Ladies of the Rachmaninoff Eyes.

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      Book preview

      Music, and Other Poems - Henry Van Dyke

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Music and Other Poems, by Henry van Dyke

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: Music and Other Poems

      Author: Henry van Dyke

      Release Date: October 13, 2009 [EBook #3525]

      Last Updated: January 15, 2013

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MUSIC AND OTHER POEMS ***

      Produced by Mardi Desjardins, and David Widger

      MUSIC AND OTHER POEMS

      By Henry van Dyke

      To my son Tertius this book is dedicated

      Transcribed from the book published October, 1904

      by Charles Scribner's Sons.

      CONTENTS

      ODES

      MUSIC

      I. PRELUDE

      V. SLEEP SONG

      VI. HUNTING SONG

      VII. DANCE-MUSIC

      VIII. THE SYMPHONY

      IX. IRIS

      X. SEA AND SHORE

      PEACE

      I. IN EXCELSIS

      II. DE PROFUNDIS

      VICTOR HUGO 1802-1902

      GOD OF THE OPEN AIR

      I

      II

      III

      IV

      V

      VI

      SONNETS

      WORK

      LIFE

      LOVE

      THE CHILD IN THE GARDEN

      LOVE'S REASON

      PORTRAIT AND REALITY

      THE WIND OF SORROW

      PATRIA

      LEGENDS

      A LEGEND OF SERVICE

      THE VAIN KING

      LYRICS

      A MILE WITH ME

      SPRING IN THE SOUTH

      LOVE'S NEARNESS

      TWO SCHOOLS

      A PRAYER FOR A MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY

      INDIAN SUMMER

      ONE WORLD

      HIDE AND SEEK

      DULCIS MEMORIA

      AUTUMN IN THE GARDEN

      THE MESSAGE

      LIGHT BETWEEN THE TREES

      RELIANCE

      GREETINGS AND INSCRIPTIONS

      KATRINA'S SUN-DIAL

      TO JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

      A HEALTH TO MARK TWAIN

      A RONDEAU OF COLLEGE RHYMES

      THE MOCKING-BIRD

      THE EMPTY QUATRAIN

      INSCRIPTIONS FOR A FRIEND'S HOUSE

      THE STATUE OF SHERMAN BY ST. GAUDENS

      THE SUN-DIAL AT WELLS COLLEGE

      ODES

      MUSIC

      I. PRELUDE

              Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that last night

                When, pierced with pain and bitter-sweet delight,

              She knew her Love and saw her Lord depart,

              Then breathed her wonder and her woe forlorn

              Into a single cry, and thou wast born?

              Thou flower of rapture and thou fruit of grief;

              Invisible enchantress of the heart;

                Mistress of charms that bring relief

                To sorrow, and to joy impart

              A heavenly tone that keeps it undefiled,—

                  Thou art the child

                Of Amor, and by right divine

                  A throne of love is thine,

           Thou flower-folded, golden-girdled, star-crowned Queen,

           Whose bridal beauty mortal eyes have never seen!

                              II

             Thou art the Angel of the pool that sleeps,

             While peace and joy lie hidden in its deeps,

             Waiting thy touch to make the waters roll

             In healing murmurs round the weary soul.

                 Ah, when wilt thou draw near,

             Thou messenger of mercy robed in song?

             My lonely heart has listened for thee long;

                 And now I seem to hear

             Across the crowded market-place of life,

             Thy measured foot-fall, ringing light and clear

           Above the unmeaning noises and the unruly strife;

                 In quiet cadence, sweet and slow,

                 Serenely pacing to and fro,

             Thy far-off steps are magical and dear.

             Ah, turn this way, come close and speak to me!

           From this dull bed of languor set my spirit free,

           And bid me rise, and let me walk awhile with thee

                              III

                 Where wilt thou lead me first?

                  In what still region

                    Of thy domain,

                 Whose provinces are legion,

             Wilt thou restore me to myself again,

                 And quench my heart's long thirst?

           I pray thee lay thy golden girdle down,

                 And put away thy starry crown:

                  For one dear restful hour

                  Assume a state more mild.

           Clad only in thy blossom-broidered gown

           That breathes familiar scent of many a flower,

           Take the low path that leads thro' pastures green;

                    And though thou art a Queen,

           Be Rosamund awhile, and in thy bower,

           By tranquil love and simple joy beguiled,

           Sing to my soul, as mother to her child.

                           IV

              O lead me by the hand,

              And let my heart have rest,

           And bring me back to childhood land,

           To find again the long-lost band

              Of playmates blithe and blest.

              Some quaint, old-fashioned air,

              That all the children knew,

           Shall run before us everywhere,

           Like a little maid with flying hair,

              To guide the

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