All in green went my love riding on a great horse of gold into the silver dawn. four lean hounds crouched low and smiling the merry deer ran before. Fleeter be they than dappled dreams the swift sweet deer the red rare deer. Four red roebuck at a white water the cruel bugle sang before. Horn at hip went my love riding riding the echo down into the silver dawn. four lean hounds crouched low and smiling the level meadows ran before. Softer be they than slippered sleep the lean lithe deer the fleet flown deer. Four fleet does at a gold valley the famished arrow sang before. Bow at belt went my love riding riding the mountain down into the silver dawn. four lean hounds crouched low and smiling the sheer peaks ran before. Paler be they than daunting death the sleek slim deer the tall tense deer. Four tell stags at a green mountain the lucky hunter sang before. All in green went my love riding on a great horse of gold into the silver dawn. four lean hounds crouched low and smiling my heart fell dead before.
Baptism: A Journey through Our Time
Song Cycle by Peter Schickele (b. 1935)
?. All in green went my love riding  [sung text not yet checked]
Authorship:
- by E. E. (Edward Estlin) Cummings (1894 - 1962), no title, appears in Tulips and Chimneys, in 1. Tulips, in 1. Songs, no. 4, first published 1923
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]?. London  [sung text not yet checked]
I wander thro' each charter'd street, Near where the charter'd Thames does flow And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear. How the Chimney-sweeper's cry Every black'ning Church appalls, And the hapless Soldier's sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls. But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new-born Infant's tear And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.
Authorship:
- by William Blake (1757 - 1827), "London", appears in Songs of Innocence and Experience, in Songs of Experience, no. 18, first published 1794
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Londres", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
?. Epitaph for a poet  [sung text not yet checked]
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, And laid them away in a box of gold; Where long will cling the lips of the moth, I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth; I hide no hate; I am not even wroth Who found earth's breath so keen and cold; I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, And laid them away in a box of gold.
Authorship:
- by Countee Cullen (1903 - 1946), "For a poet"
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]