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St. Cecilia (Louvre)

From Painting by Pierre Mignard

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SONNET VIII.

Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in

joy.

Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly?

Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,

By unions married, do offend thine ear,

They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds

In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.

Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,

Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; Resembling sire and child and happy mother, Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing: Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,

Sings this to thee, "Thou single wilt prove none."

William Shakespeare.

FROM "A SONG FOR OCCUPATIONS"

All music is what awakes from you when you are reminded by the instruments,

It is not the violins and the cornets, it is not the oboe nor the beating drums, nor the score of the baritone singer singing his sweet romanza, nor that of the men's chorus, nor that of the woman's chorus, It is nearer and farther than they.

Walt Whitman.

AT A SOLEMN MUSIC

Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'n's joy, Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse,

Wed your divine sounds; and mixt power employ

Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce;

And to our high-rais'd phantasy present
That undisturbèd song of pure concent,

Aye sung before the sapphire-color'd throne

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