Orpheus with His Lute

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
What did thy song bode, lady?
Can you hear me sing?
I will play the swan, And die in music
Hark, can you hear me?
Everything 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
What did thy song bode, lady?
Can you hear me sing?
I will play the swan, And die in music
Hark, can you hear me?
Her painted beauty to his verse
Fair with his fair doth rehearse
With April’s first, and all things rare
Let me, true in love, but write
Any child, though not so bright
As candles fixed in heaven’s air
What did thy song bode, lady?
Can you hear me sing?
I will play the swan, And die in music
Hark, can you hear me?
If my muse do please these days
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise
Worthy stand against thy sight
Give thy self the thanks, if aught in me
For who cannot write to thee
Thou dost give invention light
What did thy song bode, lady?
Can you hear me sing?
I will play the swan, And die in music
Hark, can you hear me?
True concord of well-tuned sounds
Sweetly chide who confounds
Strikes each in each mutual ordering
Sweet husband to another
Loving child and happy mother
All in one, one note do sing
What did thy song bode, lady?
Can you hear me sing?
I will play the swan, And die in music
Hark, can you hear me?
What did thy song bode, lady?
Can you hear me sing?
I will play the swan, And die in music
Hark, can you hear me?