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Poem by Alice Corbin Henderson


Music


       The ancient songs
       Pass deathward mournfully.
                              R.A.

The old songs
Die.
Yes, the old songs die.
Cold lips that sang them,
Cold lips that sang them—
The old songs die,
And the lips that sang them
Are only a pinch of dust.

I saw in Pamplona
In a musty museum—
I saw in Pamplona
In a buff-colored museum—
I saw in Pamplona
59A memorial
Of the dead violinist;
I saw in Pamplona
A memorial
Of Pablo Sarasate.

Dust was inch-deep on the cases,
Dust on the stick-pins and satins,
Dust on the badges and orders,
On the wreath from the oak of Guernica!

The old songs
Die—
And the lips that sang them.
Wreaths, withered and dusty,
Cuff-buttons with royal insignia,
These, in a musty museum,
Are all that is left of Sarasate.



Alice Corbin Henderson


Alice Corbin Henderson's other poems:
  1. Fallen
  2. Two Voices
  3. One City Only
  4. Love Me at Last
  5. Muy Vieja Mexicana


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Percy Shelley Music ("I pant for the music which is divine")
  • Wilfred Owen Music ("I have been urged by earnest violins")
  • William Bowles Music ("O harmony! thou tenderest nurse of pain")
  • Henry White Music ("Music, all powerful o'er the human mind")
  • John Cheney Music ("Take of the maiden's and the mother's sigh")
  • Amy Lowell Music ("The neighbour sits in his window and plays the flute")
  • James Lowell Music ("I seem to lie with drooping eyes")
  • Henry Van Dyke Music ("Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that last night")
  • Stephen Benet Music ("My friend went to the piano; spun the stool")

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