O lyric Love, half angel and half bird; And all a wonder and a wild desire, Boldest of hearts that ever braved the sun, Took sanctuary within the holier blue, And sang a kindred soul out to his face, Yet human at the red-ripe of the heart; When the first summons from the darkling earth Reached thee amid thy chambers, blanched their blue, And bared them of the glory to drop down, To toil for man, to suffer or to die, This is the same voice: can thy soul know change? Hail then, and hearken from the realms of help!
And as I played, a child came thro' the gate, A boy who looked at me without a word, As tho' he saw stretch far behind my head Long lines of radiant angels, row on row. That day we spoke a little, timidly, And after that I never heard the voice That sang so many songs for love of me.sara teasdale
For a dayand a night Love sang to us, played with us, Folded us round from the dark and the light; And our hearts were fulfilled with the music he made with us, Made with our hands and our lips while he stayed with us, Stayed in mid passage his pinions from flight For a dayand a night.algernon charles swinburne
Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and birds the colour of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when we sang and wallowed all night and day in caves that smelt like Sundayafternoons in damp front farmhouse parlours, and we chased, with the jawbones of deacons, the English and the bears, before the motor car, before the wheel, before the duchess-faced horse, when we rode the daft and happy hills bareback, it snowed and it snowed.
I always said that it was going to be beautiful that Paulina [Nin] presented me as entertainer and I sang.jorge vargas gonzález
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose,Nothing don’t mean nothing honey if it ain’t free...And feeling good was easy, lord, when he sang the blues.You know feeling good was good enough for me,Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee.janis joplin
Rufus seemed to come out of the womb completely musical. I'm convinced that when the doctor bashed him on the bum he sang a few bars of Nessun Dorma.Linda Thompson
It seemed to me as if the stones sang, in the strangest voices, in the language of Ultima Thule.Robertson Davies
Mozart didn't need a scheme for his music. He played and sang with the heavenly lightness of a child.joseph goebbels
I brewed potions in a vain search for life everlasting, I read books, I sang songs of history, And today I've come home to Cold Mountain To pillow my head on the stream and wash my ears.han shan
And while Lennon read a book of Marx, The quartet practiced in the park, And we sang dirges in the dark The day the music died.karl marx
I drug your ghost across the country, and we plotted out my death. Every city and memory we whispered "Here is where you rest." Well I was determined in Chicago but I dug my teeth into my knees And I settled for a telephone, sang into your machine: "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine."conor oberst
Her voice was like the voice the stars Had when they sang together.Dante Gabriel Rossetti
The thrustelcok made eek hir lay, The wode dove upon the spray She sang ful loude and cleere.Geoffrey Chaucer
I heard a Stock-dove sing or say His homely tale, this very day; His voice was buried among trees, Yet to be come at by the breeze: He did not cease; but cooed and cooed; And somewhat pensively he wooed: He sang of love, with quiet blending, Slow to begin, and never ending; Of serious faith, and inward glee; That was the song, the song for me!william wordsworth
What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women.
So sang they, and the empyrean rung With Hallelujahs. Thus was Sabbath kept.john milton
They sang of love and not of fame; Forgot was Britain's glory; Each heart recalled a different name, But all sang "Annie Laurie."bayard taylor
sang in tones of deep emotion, Songs of love and songs of longing.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In the thickets and the meadows Piped the bluebird, the Owaissa. On the summit of the lodges sang the robin, the Opechee.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow