O western wind, when wilt thou blow That the small rain down can rain? Christ, that my love were in my arms And I in my bed again.
Four Songs
Song Cycle by Vivian Fine (1913 - 2000)
1. The lover in winter plaineth for the spring  [sung text checked 1 time]
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author, 16th century
See other settings of this text.
See also Helen Taylor's poem O Western Wind!.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
2. Comfort to a Youth that had lost his Love  [sung text checked 1 time]
What needs complaints, When she a place Has with the race Of saints? In endless mirth She thinks not on What 's said or done In Earth. She sees no tears, Or any tone Of thy deep groan She hears: Nor does she mind Or think on 't now That ever thou Wast kind; But changed above, She likes not there, As she did here, Thy love. Forbear therefore, And lull asleep Thy woes, and weep No more.
Authorship:
- by Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674)
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) (Beate Binnig) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
3. She weeps over Rahoon  [sung text checked 1 time]
Rain on Rahoon falls softly, softly falling, Where my dark lover lies. Sad is his voice that calls me, sadly calling, At grey moonrise. Love, hear thou How soft, how sad his voice is ever calling, Ever unanswered and the dark rain falling, Then as now. Dark too our hearts, O love, shall lie and cold As his sad heart has lain Under the moongrey nettles, the black mould And muttering rain.
Authorship:
- by James Joyce (1882 - 1941), "She weeps over Rahoon", written 1913, appears in Pomes Penyeach, no. 4
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Elle pleure sur Rahoon", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Sie weint über Rahoon", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Barbara Miller
4. Tilly  [sung text checked 1 time]
He travels after a winter sun, Urging the cattle along a cold red road, Calling to them, a voice they know, He drives his beasts above Cabra. The voice tells them home is warm. They moo and make brute music with their hoofs. He drives them with a flowering branch before him, Smoke pluming their foreheads. Boor, bond of the herd, Tonight stretch full by the fire! I bleed by the black stream For my torn bough!
Authorship:
- by James Joyce (1882 - 1941), "Tilly", written 1904, appears in Pomes Penyeach, no. 1, first published 1927
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Bonus", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Zugabe", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission