Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO SLOW MUSIC, by THOMAS STURGE MOORE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO SLOW MUSIC, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Like shovels white of porcelain
Last Line: Of daisy naught, nor daffodilly.
Alternate Author Name(s): Moore, T. Sturge
Subject(s): Nymphs; Shells; Conchology


LIKE shovels white of porcelain
In pyramids of spices deep,
Are shells half scooped into brown sand
Which ebbing waves drew on a heap.
Like blush by smooth nail overlain
Are others; five for either hand,
Nay, plenty for both hands and feet
Of Venus when she walks the strand,
Escaped from perfumed temple's heat.

Like wail which for Adonis rang,
Drawn up and round a hollow maze,
In others dwells a wealth of sound
That she prefers to all men's praise.
Made coral by a moment's pang
And snapt off from true hearts are found
The branching red rich veins of those
Who, wounded by her son, have drowned,
Seeking a "sea-change" for their woes.

The idle nymphs in caves far down,
Secluded life-long from alarms,
Where distance lulls the billow's roar
And moony sea-light dreams of day,
Made every shell that strews the shore.
They with their handiwork do crown
Long tresses, twine their grand white arms
With chains of cowries, and array
Their necks and bosoms..Naught of lily
(Since Venus never tells) know they,
Naught of the tender violet's charms,
Of daisy naught, nor daffodilly.





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