Poem by William Shakespeare

Orpheus

ORPHEUS with his lute made trees
And the mountain tops that freeze
   Bow themselves when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
   There had made a lasting spring.

Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
   Hung their heads and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art,
   Killing care and grief of heart
   Fall asleep, or hearing, die. 

1. The Church at Stratford
2. Anne Hathaway
3. From the Rape of Lucrece
4. How Like A Winter Hath My Absence Been
5. Carpe Diem

Percy Shelley Orpheus ("Not far from hence. From yonder pointed hill")

Print

4103 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version