The LiederNet Archive
WARNING. Not all the material on this website is in the public domain.
It is illegal to copy and distribute our copyright-protected material without permission.
For more information, contact us at the following address:
licenses (AT) lieder (DOT) net

5 songs

Word count: 305

Song Cycle by Henk van der Vliet

Not all available information for this cycle is visible. Return to normal display.

1. Song

[--- This text is not currently
in the database but will be added
as soon as we obtain it. ---]

2. Music, when soft voices die

Music, when soft voices die,	
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;
And so [thy]1 thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

View original text (without footnotes)
1 Bridge: "my"

3. Trees

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth's sweet-flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

4. Cupid mistaken

As after noon, one summer's day,
    Venus stood bathing in a river; 
Cupid a-shooting went that way,
    New strung his bow, new fill'd his quiver.

With skill he chose his sharpest dart:
    With all his might his bow he drew: 
Swift to his beauteous parent's heart
    The too well-guided arrow flew.

I faint! I die! the Goddess cry'd:
    O cruel, could'st thou find none other, 
To wreck thy spleen on? Parricide!
    Like Nero, thou hast slain thy mother.

Poor Cupid sobbing scarce could speak;
    Indeed, Mamma, I did not know ye: 
Alas! how easy my mistake?
    I took you for your likeness, Cloe.

5. Why so pale and wan

Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
  Prithee, why so pale?
Will, when looking well can't move her,
  Looking ill prevail?
  Prithee, why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
  Prithee, why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,
  Saying nothing do't?
  Prithee, why so mute?

Quit, quit for shame, this will not move,
  This cannot take her;
If of herself she will not love,
  Nothing can make her;
  [The devil take her!]1

View original text (without footnotes)
1 Britten: "Let who will take her!"

Gentle Reminder
This website began in 1995 as a personal project, and I have been working on it full-time without a salary since 2008. Our research has never had any government or institutional funding, so if you found the information here useful, please consider making a donation. Your gift is greatly appreciated.
     - Emily Ezust

Browse (Petrucci Music Library) for Lieder or choral works