Sweetheart, thy lips are touched with flame, Sweetheart, thy glowing ardor tame; Sweetheart, thy love how can I blame, When I, too, feel its fire, When all thy fond desire, Sweetheart, I know the same. Sweetheart, thine eyes like rubies glow; Sweetheart, no more regard me so; Sweetheart, I cannot chide thee though Since my looks too are burning, Since I, too, throb with yearning; Sweetheart, thy pangs I know. Sweetheart, thy blood leaps in thy cheek. Sweetheart, thy very heart throbs speak; Sweetheart, to chide I am too weak, My heart, so hotly beating, Is still thy name repeating; Sweetheart, to still it seek!
Lyrics from "Told in the Gate"
Song Cycle by George Whitefield Chadwick (1854 - 1931)
1. Sweetheart, thy lips are touched with flame  [sung text checked 1 time]
Authorship:
- by Arlo Bates (1850 - 1918), appears in Told in the Gate, first published 1892
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Researcher for this page: Johann Winkler2. Sings the nightingale to the rose  [sung text checked 1 time]
Sings the nightingale to the rose: Without thy love I die! Sweetheart, regard my cry! Sings the fountain, as it flows: O lily, comfort give, sweetheart, for thee I live! O sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart dear, I love thee and I wait thee here. Sings the cyclamen to the bee: In love alone is rest; sweetheart, come to my breast! Sings the moon on high to the sea: I shine for thee alone, sweetheart, I am thine own! O sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart dear, I love thee and I wait thee here.
Authorship:
- by Arlo Bates (1850 - 1918), appears in Told in the Gate, first published 1892
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Researcher for this page: Johann Winkler3. The rose leans over the pool  [sung text checked 1 time]
The rose leans over the pool; Oh touch me not, touch me not, love! When the sun bursts above her, the rude bee will love her; oh touch me not, touch me not, love! When the night breeze is cool; Oh kiss me not, kiss me not, love! With song that pursues her, the nightingale woos her; Oh touch me not, kiss me not, love! The moth to the jasmine flies; Oh touch me not, touch me not, love! Drunk with fervid desire, with love's passionate fire; Oh touch me not, touch me not, love! In her bosom he lies; Oh kiss me not, kiss me not, love! Till smothered in kisses, he dies of love's blisses; Oh touch me not, kiss me not, love!
Authorship:
- by Arlo Bates (1850 - 1918), appears in Told in the Gate, first published 1892
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Researcher for this page: Johann Winkler4. Love's like a summer rose  [sung text checked 1 time]
Love's like a summer rose, whose fragrant buds unclose, but ah, how soon it goes, fading and wasting! Fallen its petals lie quickly to fade and die; thus do love's pleasures fly, lost in the tasting. Yet as new roses blow as fresher fountains flow, so will new raptures glow, new joys delight thee; Lips, that entreating press, arms, warm in soft caress, bosoms of loveliness to bliss invite thee. Is not the new love fair? Why for the old despair? As song dies on the air, so love is fleeting. Why then the past regret? Pleasure remaineth yet; love only and forget memory's entreating.
Authorship:
- by Arlo Bates (1850 - 1918), appears in Told in the Gate, first published 1892
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Researcher for this page: Johann Winkler5. As in waves without number  [sung text checked 1 time]
As in waves without number the sea beats still in immortal unrest; so ever with yearning for thee the swelling heart throbs in my breast. As the moon keeps ist course all unmoved, however the ocean may sway, so thou, with thy heart all unproved, goest calm on thy beauteous way. O thou moon of desire, on me with kindlier glance look down; draw me up like a flame unto thee, let my soul in thy radiance drown!
Authorship:
- by Arlo Bates (1850 - 1918), appears in Told in the Gate, first published 1892
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Researcher for this page: Johann Winkler6. Dear love, when in thine arms  [sung text checked 1 time]
Dear love, when in thine arms I lie and feel thy faithful heart throbbing with love which cannot die, and know how true thou art. Ah, why unbidden to mine eyes should foolish teardrops thronging rise? Why should I weep? Dear love, thy kiss falls on my mouth, thine arms hold me again; I drink thy looks, as earth in drouth drinks drops of welcome rain. Once more, upon thine ardent breast my glowing cheeks are hidden pressed, and yet I weep. When thou art gone, and I am lone, bereft of life in thee, when all this joy, which we have known, lost in the past shall be; then, when undone by sorrow's ache in death my heart shall refuge take, I shall not weep.
Authorship:
- by Arlo Bates (1850 - 1918), appears in Told in the Gate, first published 1892
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Researcher for this page: Johann Winkler7. Was I not thine  [sung text checked 1 time]
Was I not thine when Allah spoke the word Which formed from [smoke]1 the sky? Were not our twin hearts one when heaven heard The first faint stars reply? Canst thou then doubt that while the ages roll Our being one shall be? As flame and light are one, so is my soul One, O my love, with thee! The ebbing star-floods of the Judgment Day Shall leave my heart still thine; And Paradise itself shall fade away Ere I thy love resign!
Authorship:
- by Arlo Bates (1850 - 1918), no title, appears in Told in the Gate, first published 1892
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View original text (without footnotes)Confirmed with Arlo Bates, Told in the Gate, Boston, Roberts Brothers, 1892, page 146.
1 Chadwick: "earth"Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Johann Winkler
8. In mead where roses bloom  [sung text checked 1 time]
In mead, where roses bloom, I saw a withered rose. "Ah," sighed I, "how has doom struck thee, as love's fierce woes have blighted my sad heart, faint with their bitter smart." "I dreamed," the rose replied, "my nightingale was near; morn waked me, and denied that dream's beguilement dear. Bereft and lone, I die, since love no more is nigh." "Alas, poor rose," I wept, "Thy lot and mine are one. Joy found me, where I slept, but fled, when sleep was done. Why could not morn delay until the judgment day?"
Authorship:
- by Arlo Bates (1850 - 1918), appears in Told in the Gate, first published 1892
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Researcher for this page: Johann Winkler9. Sister fairest, why art thou sighing  [sung text checked 1 time]
Sister fairest, why art thou sighing? "Dear one, a ring was on my hand; now in the sea's cold deep 'tis lying, no diver brings it back to land." Sister sweetest, why art thou weeping? "Dear one, a rose bloomed on my tree; some cruel hand, while I was sleeping, hath reft my rose away from me." Sister saddest, why art thou pining? "Dear one, I had a lover true; death smote him in my arms reclining. and I for death am pining too!"
Authorship:
- by Arlo Bates (1850 - 1918), appears in Told in the Gate, first published 1892
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Researcher for this page: Johann Winkler10. Oh, let the night speak of me  [sung text checked 1 time]
Oh, let [night]1 speak of me, for day Knows not how breaks with woe my heart; Day knows not how I mournful stray, Weeping for thee, so dear thou art. The sad night weeps with me, and lays Her tear-wet cheek against my own; Although I walk in sun-lit ways, Still doth my heart in darkness moan. The night shall speak of me, and say All things to thee I dare not show; And to thy dreams my love display, Till thou art melted by my woe!
Authorship:
- by Arlo Bates (1850 - 1918), no title, appears in Told in the Gate, first published 1892
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View original text (without footnotes)Confirmed with Arlo Bates, Told in the Gate, Boston, Roberts Brothers, 1892, pages 202-203.
1 Chadwick: "the night"Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Johann Winkler
11. I said to the wind of the south  [sung text checked 1 time]
I said to the wind of the south: "O gentle southwind, blow! Bear kisses to his mouth and greet him from me so!" The gentle southwind blew with softly mournful sound; o'er hill and dale it blew, but my love it never found. O love, dear love, so long away, while I am lone, where dost thou stray? I said to the wind of the west: "O sweetest westwind, make haste and waken in his breast longing, my lips to taste." The westwind swiftly sped with sobbing mournful sound; ah, thou canst not be dead, then why art thou not found? O love, dear love, so long away, come, for I die if you delay!
Authorship:
- by Arlo Bates (1850 - 1918), appears in Told in the Gate, first published 1892
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Researcher for this page: Johann Winkler12. Were I a prince Egyptian
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Authorship:
- by Arlo Bates (1850 - 1918), appears in Told in the Gate, first published 1892
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