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."

Songs consecrate to truth and liberty.

Songs consecrate to truth and liberty.

She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with
pity: and when winter evenings fall early read more

She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with
pity: and when winter evenings fall early (sitting at her merry
wheel), she sings a defiance to the giddy wheel of
fortune . . . and fears no manner of ill because she means none.

Unlike my subject, I will make my song.
It shall be witty, and it shan't be long.

Unlike my subject, I will make my song.
It shall be witty, and it shan't be long.

There are more love songs than anything else. If songs could make you do something we'd all love one another.

There are more love songs than anything else. If songs could make you do something we'd all love one another.

The song is ended / But the melody lingers on.

The song is ended / But the melody lingers on.

That song, for me, is about drugs and alcohol and loss and love. It's about being proud of who you read more

That song, for me, is about drugs and alcohol and loss and love. It's about being proud of who you are, being proud of your situation and just being stoked that things are always going to get better or always gonna get worse and that's such a great thing. Every day is a new surprise.

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.

Song forbids victorious deeds to die.

Song forbids victorious deeds to die.