Songs from ‘An Island in The Moon’
FRESH from the dewy hill, the me… Smiles on my head and mounts his f… Round my young brows the laurel wr… And rising glories beam around my… My feet are wing’d, while o’er the…
O HOLY virgin! clad in purest wh… Unlock heav’n’s golden gates, and… Awake the dawn that sleeps in heav… Rise from the chambers of the east… The honey’d dew that cometh on wak…
HONOUR and Genius is all I ask… And I ask the Gods no more! No more! No more! [the three Phi… No more! No more!
Once a dream did weave a shade O’er my angel—guarded bed, That an emmet lost its way Where on grass methought I lay. Troubled, wildered and forlorn,
A little black thing among the sno… Crying “weep! 'weep!” in notes of… “Where are thy father and mother?… “They are both gone up to the chur… Because I was happy upon the heat…
LITTLE PHOEBUS came struttin… With his fat belly and his round c… What is it you would please to hav… Ho! Ho! I won’t let it go at only so and s…
THE BELL struck one, and shook… The graves give up their dead: fai… Walk’d by the castle gate, and loo… A hollow groan ran thro’ the drear… She shriek’d aloud, and sunk upon…
My mother bore me in the southern… And I am black, but O! my soul is… White as an angel is the English… But I am black, as if bereav’d of… My mother taught me underneath a t…
I travell’d thro’ a land of men, A land of men and women too; And heard and saw such dreadful th… As cold earth—wanderers never knew… For there the Babe is born in joy
The little boy lost in the lonely… Led by the wandering light, Began to cry, but God, ever nigh, Appeared like his father, in white… He kissed the child, and by the ha…
‘Twas on a Holy Thursday, their i… The children walking two and two,… Grey headed beadles walk’d before,… Till into the high dome of Paul’s… Oh what a multitude they seem’d, t…
Sweet dreams, form a shade O’er my lovely infant’s head! Sweet dreams of pleasant streams By happy, silent, moony beams! Sweet Sleep, with soft down
All the night in woe Lyca’s parents go Over valleys deep, While the deserts weep. Tired and woe-begone,
The sun does arise, And make happy the skies. The merry bells ring To welcome the spring. The skylark and thrush,
Whate’er is born of mortal birth Must be consumed with the earth, To rise from generation free: Then what have I to do with thee? The sexes sprung from shame and pr…