Caricamento in corso...
Portrait of the Dancer Anna Pawlowa, by Max Slevogt
Robert L. Martin

The Reign of Melody

Melody, strange lady endowed with absolute powers
leaning over the meadows from the highest towers
she of might and tenderness and melodic smiles
soft velvet tears and hypnotic guiles
 
ranks over the powers of man, royalty, and kings
from gentle melodies flowing with all it brings
and rhythm that moves the arms and legs
with ammo begotten from internal powder kegs
 
melody of a smile and melody of a cathartic rant
running wild in the voice of a full-hearted chant
or a song of a violet enclaved by a luxurious grove
seeking solace from the stony winds that blow
 
beautiful melodies, movers of stationary souls
heartener of warriors to their triumphant goals
or speakers in the silence of a murmuring brook
or the pounding of the tempest as the earth hath shook
 
an ode to music and her stirring melodies
and how she reigns over sententious bodies
over souls of monarchs, of kings and queens
with a song for them and what she sings

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