The Scarlet Gown - being verses by a St. Andrews Man by Robert F. (Robert Fuller) Murray
page 9 of 75 (12%)
page 9 of 75 (12%)
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Speak not a word: let all your voices cease.
Let me but hear some soft harmonious strain, And I shall die at peace. Music entrances, soothes, and grants relief From all below by which we are opprest; I pray you, speak no word unto my grief, But lull it into rest. Tired am I of all words, and tired of aught That may some falsehood from the ear conceal, Desiring rather sounds which ask no thought, Which I need only feel: A melody in whose delicious streams The soul may sink, and pass without a breath From fevered fancies into quiet dreams, From dreaming into death. FAREWELL TO A SINGER ON HER MARRIAGE As those who hear a sweet bird sing, And love each song it sings the best, Grieve when they see it taking wing |
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