California sunlight - sweet Calcutta rain - Honolulu starbright - the song remains the same.

California sunlight - sweet Calcutta rain - Honolulu starbright - the song remains the same.

All this for a song.

All this for a song.

Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
read more

Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.
Come, but one verse.

If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.

If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.

The lively Shadow-World of Song.

The lively Shadow-World of Song.

He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute,
In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans merci."

He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute,
In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans merci."

And grant that when I face the grisly Thing,
My song may trumptet down the gray Perhaps
read more

And grant that when I face the grisly Thing,
My song may trumptet down the gray Perhaps
Let me be as a tune-swept fiddlestring
That feels the Master Melody--and snaps.

I had wanted to say that my song was far too painful to sing.

I had wanted to say that my song was far too painful to sing.

I cannot sing the old songs
Though well I know the tune,
Familiar as a cradle-song
read more

I cannot sing the old songs
Though well I know the tune,
Familiar as a cradle-song
With sleep-compelling croon;
Yet though I'm filled with music,
As choirs of summer birds,
"I cannot sing the old songs"--
I do not know the words.