Never, never may the fruit be plucked from the bough And gathered into barrels. He that would eat of love must eat it where it hangs. Though the branches bend like reeds, Though the ripe fruit splash in the grass or wrinkle on the tree, He that would eat of love may bear away with him Only what his belly can hold, Nothing in the apron, Nothing in the pockets. Never, never may the fruit be gathered from the bough And harvested in barrels. The winter of love is a cellar of empty bins, In an orchard soft with rot.
The Rainy Summer
Song Cycle by Andy Vores (b. 1956)
1. Never may the fruit be plucked  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
Authorship:
- by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 - 1950)
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]2. The true encounter  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
"Wolf!" cried my cunning heart At every sheep it spied, And roused the countryside. "Wolf! Wolf!" -- and up would start Good neighbours, bringing spade And pitchfork to my aid. At length my cry was known: Therein lay my release. I met the wolf alone And was devoured in peace.
Authorship:
- by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 - 1950)
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]5. The coming of good luck  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
So good luck came, and on my roof did light, Like noiseless snow, or as the dew of night: Not all at once, but gently, as the trees Are by the sunbeams tickled by degrees.
Authorship:
- by Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674)
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]Total word count: 184