Seabirds are asleep,
The world forgets to weep,
Sea murmurs her soft slumber-song
On the shadowy sand
Of this elfin land;
“I, the Mother mild,
Hush thee, O my child,
Forget the voices wild!

Isles in elfin light
Dream, the rocks and caves
Lull’d by whisp’ring waves,
Veil their marbles bright,
Foam glimmers faintly white
Upon the shelly sand
Of this elfin land;

Sea-sound, like violins,
To slumber woos and wins,
I murmur my soft slumber-song,
Leave woes, and wails, and sins,
Ocean’s shadowy might
Breathes good night!”
Hon. Roden Noel (1834-1894)

2. Come, Gentle Night

Come, gentle night!
Upon our eyelids lay thy fingers light;
For we are tired, and fain aside would lay
The cares and burdens that surround the day.

Come, peaceful night!
Thy courierstars already glitter bright;
And we who labour, both unblest and blest,
Are weary of our work, and long for rest.

Come, holy night!
Long is the day, and ceaseless is the fight;
Around us bid thy quiet shadows creep,
And rock us in thy sombre arms to sleep!
C. Clifton Bingham (1859-1913)

3. In Moonlight

As the moon’s soft splendour
O’er the faint cold starlight of heav’n
Is thrown,
So thy voice most tender
To the strings without soul has given
Its own.

Though the sound o’erpowers,
Sing again, with thy sweet voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
Where music and moonlight and feeling
Are one.
from ‘To Jane’ by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

4. Speak, Music!

Speak, music, and bring to me
Fancies too fleet for me,
Sweetness too sweet for me,
Wake, voices, and sing to me,
Sing to me tenderly; bid me rest.

Rest! ah, I am fain of it!
Die, Hope! small was my gain of it!
Song, take thy parable,
Whisper, that all is well,
Say that there tarrieth
Something more true than death,
Waiting to smile for me; bright and blest.

Thrill, string: echo and play for me
All that the poet, the priest cannot say for me;
Soar, voice, soar, heavenwards, and pray for me,
Wondering, wandering; bid me rest.
Arthur Christopher Benson (1862-1925)

5. Oh, Soft was the Song

Oh, soft was the song in my soul, and soft beyond thought were thy lips,
And thou wert mine own, and Eden reconquered was mine:
And the way that I go is the way of thy feet, and the breath that I breathe
It hath being from thee, and life from the life that is thine!
from ‘At Sea’ by Sir Gilbert Parker (1862-1932)

6. There are Seven that Pull the Thread

There are seven that pull the thread.
There is one under the waves,
There is one where the winds are wove,
There is one in the old grey house
Where the dew is made before dawn.
One lives in the house of the sun,
And one in the house of the moon,
And one lies under the boughs
Of the golden apple tree,
And one spinner is lost.
Holiest, holiest seven
Put all your pow’r on the thread
That I’ve spun in the house tonight.
after ‘Spinning Song’ by William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

7. The Wind at Dawn

And the wind went out to meet with the sun
At the dawn when the night was done,
And he racked the clouds in lofty disdain
As they flocked in his airy train.

And the earth was grey, and grey was the sky,
In the hour when the stars must die;
And the moon had fled with her sad, wan light,
For her kingdom was gone with night.

Then the sun upleapt in might and in power,
And the worlds woke to hail the hour,
And the sea stream’d red from the kiss of his brow,
There was glory and light enow.

To his tawny mane and tangle of flush
Leapt the wind with a blast and a rush;
In his strength unseen, in triumph upborne,
Rode he out to meet with the morn!
Caroline Alice Elgar, née Roberts (1848-1920)

8. In the Dawn

Some souls have quickened, eye to eye,
And heart to heart, and hand in hand;
The swift fire leaps, and instantly
They understand.

Henceforth they can be cold no more;
Woes there may be, ay, tears and blood,
But not the numbness, as before
They understood.

Henceforth, though ages roll
Across wild wastes of sand and brine,
Whate’er betide, one human soul
Is knit with mine.

Whatever joy be dearly bought,
Whatever hope my bosom stirs,
The straitest cell of secret thought
Is wholly hers.

Ay, were I parted, life would be
A helpless, heartless flight along
Blind tracks in vales of misery
And sloughs of wrong.

Nay, God forgive me!
Life would roll like some dim moon thro’ cloudy bars;
But to have loved her sets my soul
Among the stars.
Arthur Christopher Benson (1862-1925)

9. Like to the Damask Rose

Like to the damask rose you see,
Or like a blossom on a tree,
Or like a dainty flow’r of May,
Or like the morning of the day,
Or like the sun, or like the shade,
Or like the gourd which Jonas had,
E’en such is man whose thread is spun,
Drawn out and cut, and so is done.
The rose withers, the blossom blasteth,
The flower fades, the morning hasteth,
The sun sets, the shadow flies,
The gourd consumes the man he dies!

Like to the grass that’s newly sprung,
Or like a tale that’s new begun,
Or like a bird that’s here today,
Or like the pearled dew of May,
Or like an hour, or like a span,
Or like the singing of a swan,
E’en such is man who lives by breath,
Is here, now there, in life and death.
The grass withers, the tale is ended,
The bird is flown, the dew’s ascended;
The hour is short, the span not long;
The swan’s near death, Man’s life is done!
in score poem is attributed to Simon Wastell (1560-1635),
but possibly actually by William Alabaster (1567-1640)

10. Sabbath Morning at Sea (from Sea Pictures)

The ship went on with solemn face:
To meet the darkness on the deep,
The solemn ship went onward.
I bow’d down weary in the place;
For parting tears and present sleep
Had weigh’d mine eyelids downward.

The new sight, the new wond’rous sight!
The waters around me, turbulent,
The skies, impassive o’er me,
Calm in a moonless, sunless light,
As glorified by even the intent
Of holding the day glory!

Love me, sweet friends, this sabbath day.
The sea sings round me while ye roll
Afar the hymn unalter’d,
And kneel, where once I knelt to pray,
And bless me deeper in your soul
Because your voice has falter’d.

And tho’ this sabbath comes to me
Without the stolèd minister,
And chanting congregation,
God’s Spirit shall give comfort.
HE Who brooded soft on waters drear,
Creator on creation.

He shall assist me to look higher,
Where keep the saints, with harp and song,
An endless sabbath morning.
And, on that sea commix’d with fire,
Oft drop their eyelids raised too long
To the full Godhead’s burning.
from ‘A Sabbath on the Sea’ (1839)
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

PAUZE

11. Where Corals Lie (from Sea Pictures)

The deeps have music soft and low
When winds awake the airy spry,
It lures me, lures me on to go
And see the land where corals lie.
By mount and mead, by lawn and rill,
When night is deep, and moon is high,
That music seeks and finds me still,
And tells me where the corals lie.

Yes, press my eyelids close, ’tis well;
But far the rapid fancies fly
To rolling worlds of wave and shell,
And all the land where corals lie.

Thy lips are like a sunset glow,
Thy smile is like a morning sky,
Yet leave me, leave me, let me go
And see the land where corals lie.
Richard Garnett (1835-1906)

12. The Self-Banished

It is not that I love you less
Than when before your feet I lay:
But to prevent the sad increase
Of hopeless love, I keep away.

In vain! alas! for ev’rything
Which I have known belong to you,
Your form does to my fancy bring
And makes my old wounds bleed anew.

Who in the Spring from the new Sun,
Already has a fever got,
Too late begins these shafts to shun,
Which Phoebus thro’ his veins has shot.

Too late he would the pain assuage,
To shadows thick he doth retire;
About with him he bears the pain
And in his tainted blood the fire.

Absence is vain for ev’rything
That I have known belong to you,
Your form does to my fancy bring
And makes my old wound bleed anew.

But vow’d I have and never must
Your banish’d servant trouble you;
For if I break, you may mistrust
The vow I made to love you too.
Edmund Waller (1606-1687)

13. Pleading

Will you come homeward from the hills of Dreamland,
Home in the dusk, and speak to me again?
Tell me the stories that I am forgetting,
Quicken my hope, and recompense my pain?
Will you come homeward from the hills of Dreamland?
I have grown weary, though I wait you yet;
Watching the fallen leaf, the faith grown fainter,
The mem’ry smoulder’d to a dull regret.
Shall the remembrance die in dim forgetting
All the fond light that glorified my way?
Will you come homeward from the hills of Dreamland,
Home in the dusk, and turn my night to day?
Arthur Leslie Salmon (b. 1865-?)

14. Queen Mary’s Song

Hapless doom of woman happy in betrothing,
Beauty passes like a breath and love is lost in loathing:
Low! my lute: Speak low, my lute, but say the world is nothing.
Low! lute, low!
Love will hover round the flowers when they first awaken;
Love will fly the fallen leaf, and not be overtaken;
Low, my lute! O low my lute! we fade and are forsaken.
Low, dear lute, low!
from Act V, Scene 2 of ‘Queen Mary’ (1888)
by Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)

15. Dry Those Fair, Those Crystal Eyes

Dry those fair, those crystal eyes,
Which like growing fountains rise
To drown their banks; Grief’s sullen brooks
Would better flow in furrow’d looks;
Thy lovely face was never meant
To be the shore of discontent.

Then clear those wat’rish stars again,
Which else portend a lasting rain;
Lest the clouds which settle there
Prolong my winter all the year,
And thy example others make
In love with sorrow for thy sake.
‘Song’ by Dr. Henry King, Bishop of Chichester
and chaplain to James I (1592-1669)

16. Through the Long Days

Through the long days and years
What will my lov’d one be,
Parted from me?
Through the long days and years.

Always as then she was
Loveliest, brightest, best,
Blessing and blest,
Always as then she was.

Never on earth again
Shall I before her stand,
Touch lip or hand.
Never on earth again.

But, while my darling lives,
Peaceful I journey on,
Not quite alone,
Not while my darling lives.
John Hay (1838-1905)

17. A Song of Autumn

“Where shall we go for our garlands glad
At the falling of the year
When the burnt-up banks are yellow and sad
When the boughs are yellow and sere?
Where are the old ones that once we had
And when are the new ones near?
What shall we do for our garlands glad
At the falling of the year?”

“Child! can I tell where the garlands go?
Can I say where the lost leaves veer?
On the brown-burnt banks, when the wild winds blow
When they drift thro’ the dead-wood drear?
Girl! when the garlands of next year glow
You may gather again, my dear;
But I go where the last year’s lost leaves go
At the falling of the year.”
Adam Lindsay Gordon (1833-1870)

18. Always and Everywhere

O say not, when my earthly days are o’er,
That I have only caused thee sorrows sore;
For I have wreckt my own life, even more,
Always and Ev’rywhere.

O say not, when on earth I no more dwell,
That I have numbed thy young heart’s joyous swell;
I, too, have quaffed the Poison-Cup of Hell,
Always and Ev’rywhere.

But say, when soft the grasses o’er me wave,
That God is kind to hide me in the grave;
For both my life and thine I did enslave,
Always and Ev’rywhere.

But say, O say! when my last hours depart,
That my poor life was one long frenzied smart;
For I have loved thee, though with bitter heart,
Always and Ev’rywhere.
Frank H. Fortey from the Polish of Count Zygmunt Krasinski (1812-1849)

19. Twilight

Adieu! and the sun goes awearily down,
The mist creeps up o’er the sleepy town,
The white sails bend to the shudd’ring mere,
And the reapers have reaped, and the night is here.

Adieu! and the years are a broken song,
The right grows weak in the strife with wrong,
The lilies of love have a crimson stain,
And the old days never will come again.

Adieu! Some time shall the veil between
The things that are, and that might have been,
Be folded back for our eyes to see,
And the meaning of all be clear to me.
from ‘The Twilight of Love’ by Sir Gilbert Parker (1862-1932)

20. In Haven (Capri) (from Sea Pictures)

Closely let me hold thy hand
Storms are sweeping sea and land;
Love alone will stand.

Closely cling, for waves beat fast,
Foam flakes cloud the hurrying blast
Love alone will last.
Kiss my lips and softly say
“Joy seaswept, may fade today
Love alone will stay.”
Caroline Alice Elgar, née Roberts (1848-1920)