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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


PRAISE OF MUSIC by WILLIAM STRODE

First Line: WHEN WHISPERING STRAINS WITH CREEPING WIND
Last Line: AND CHANGE HIS SOUL FOR HARMONY.
Subject(s): MUSIC & MUSICIANS;

When whispering strains with creeping wind
Distil soft passions through the heart;
And when at every touch we find
Our pulses beat and bear a part;
When threads can make
A heart-string ache,
Philosophy
Can scarce deny
Our souls are made of harmony.

When unto heavenly joys we faine
Whate'er the soul affecteth most,
Which only thus we can explain
By music of the heavenly host;
Whose lays we think
Make stars to wink,
Philosophy
Can scarce deny
Our souls consist of harmony.

O, lull me, lull me, charming air!
My senses rock with wonder sweet;
Like snow on wool thy fallings are;
Soft like a spirit's are thy feet!
Grief who needs fear
That hath an ear?
Down let him lie,
And slumbering die,
And change his soul for harmony.



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