I can hear you dreaming, I can hear the secret things Stories that you’ll never tell Hopes and fears and what befell That day you’ve never spoken of, You call it rape, you called it love, Passionate, inviolate, By day you play the violet Shrinking, quiet, quite polite Then darkness falls and what a sight! You rant and rage and drown in blood, The gentleman without a god Nor gentleness, now quivering, ’cause I can hear you dreaming.
This is one of my favourite poems of mine (at the moment). In part it’s because when I hear it in my head, it sounds as if somebody is singing it, almost all on one note, except for the last three syllables of each lines. The antepenultimate and penultimate are a minor sixth higher than the tonic, and then the music goes down a semitone (i.e. a fifth above the tonic). The first line is very slow, then gradually becomes faster and more wild until the final line, which snaps back to the original speed. It’s a simple tune, but in my head it becomes very creepy. I hope you enjoy it.
The Hapless Neo-Romantic