I.
There’s not a passion that the bosom feels
Of mighty, gentle, or exalted kind,
But captive may be led by music’s charms–
Subdued, augmented, soften’d, or refined.
II.
Music excites, by its enchanting pow’r,
The loftiest thoughts that can inspire the heart;
Joys that are holy, delicate, and pure,
That of existence form the brightest part.
III.
The patriot’s heart by music may be nerved
To firmness, for his well lov’d “country’s weal;”
To bravely fight for all her cherish’d rights,
And with his blood, her pride and glory seal.
IV.
The soldier, when in battle’s gory field,
Surrounded by the deaf’ning din of war,
Feels in his breast heroic ardour burn,
While martial strains are pealing from afar.
V.
There’s not a sound the elements produce,
From gale’s soft whisper, to the tempest’s roar,
But music most correctly can express,
And all its grandeur on our spirits pour.
VI.
The murmur of the ocean in a calm–
In storm its majesty and furious swell–
The streamlet’s ripple–and the cascade’s fall–
Music’s descriptive pow’rs distinctly tell.
VII.
By it Jehovah’s judgments are described
With such resistless force, such thrilling pow’r,
We feel to tremble at the wrath of Heav’n,
And fancy ’tis destruction’s awful hour.
VIII.
As with a tongue, it can proclaim the groans,
The shrieks, the agony, the pains of those
Who meet a hero’s death upon the field,
Or fall less glorious ‘neath as bitter woes.
IX.
The sounds of victory its strains can swell,
And from the vanquish’d echo back despair;
Can renovate the fainting breast with hope,
And down the sternest cheek can draw the tear.
X.
There’s not a joy in life but it augments,
No sorrow but it lessens or subdues,
No feeling but it renders more intense,
No pleasure that is past but it renews.
XI.
It wakes our sympathy, and melts our hearts,
Infuses tenderness, and love, and peace;
Bids sensibility adorn our breasts,
And all tumultuous, angry passions cease.
XII.
When in the social circle we behold
The smiling faces of our well lov’d friends,
We feel affection’s glow, and higher joy,
As on our ears sweet harmony descends.
XIII.
When meekly in the house of God we bow,
To offer adoration to His name,
Its sounds inspiring animate the soul,
And fan devotion’s embers to a flame.
XIV.
And Heav’n itself with harmony is fill’d–
With angels’ joyful and melodious lays:
There ransom’d saints in ceaseless anthems harp,
To God and Christ, their everlasting praise.
(Mary Ann Carter)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, God Poems, Life Poems, Sadness Poems, Soul Poems, War & Peace Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Friendship Poems, Christianity Poems, Name Poems, Hope PoemsBased on Keywords: augments, lessens, descriptive, renovate, infuses