Memory, hither come And tune your merry notes; And while upon the wind Your music floats, I'll pore upon the stream, Where sighing lovers dream, And fish for fancies as they pass Within the watery glass. I'll drink of the clear stream, And hear the linnet's song, And there I'll lie and dream The day along; And when night comes I'll go To places fit for woe, Walking along the darkened valley, With silent melancholy.
Four Blake Songs
Song Cycle by Margaret Ada Sutherland (1897 - 1984)
1. Memory, hither come  [sung text not yet checked]
- by William Blake (1757 - 1827), "Memory, hither come", written 1783, appears in Poetical Sketches [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
See other settings of this text.Researcher for this text: Ted Perry
2. Piping down the valleys wild  [sung text not yet checked]
Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: "Pipe a song about a lamb." So I piped with merry chear. "Piper, pipe that song again." So I piped: he wept to hear. "Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy chear." So I sang the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. "Piper, sit thee down and write In a book, that all may read." So he vanished from my sight; And I pluck'd a hollow reed. And I made a rural pen, And I stain'd the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.
- by William Blake (1757 - 1827), "Introduction", appears in Songs of Innocence and Experience, in Songs of Innocence, no. 1, first published 1789 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- RUS Russian (Русский) [singable] (Dmitri Nikolaevich Smirnov) , "Вступление", copyright ©, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
3. How sweet I roamed  [sung text not yet checked]
How sweet I roam'd from field to field, And tasted all the summer's pride, 'Till I the prince of love beheld, Who in the sunny beams did glide! He shew'd me lilies for my hair, And blushing roses for my brow; He led me through his gardens fair, Where all his golden pleasures grow. With sweet May dews my wings were wet, And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage; He caught me in his silken net, And shut me in his golden cage. He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty.
- by William Blake (1757 - 1827), "Song: How sweet I roam'd from field to field", appears in Poetical Sketches, first published 1783 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
See other settings of this text.Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
4. The jocund dance  [sung text not yet checked]
I love the [jocund]1 dance, The softly breathing song, Where innocent eyes do glance, [And]2 where lisps the maiden's tongue. I love the laughing vale, I love the echoing [hills]3, Where mirth does never fail, And the jolly swain laughs his fill. I love the pleasant cot, I love the innocent bow'r, Where white and brown is our lot, Or fruit in the midday hour. I love the oaken seat, Beneath the oaken tree, Where all the [old]2 villagers meet, And laugh [our]4 sports to see. I love our neighbors all, But Kitty, I [better love thee]5; And love them [I ever]6 shall; But thou art all to me.
- by William Blake (1757 - 1827), "Song" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
See other settings of this text.View original text (without footnotes)
1 Mitchell: "merry"
2 not set by Mitchell.
3 Mitchell: "hill"
4 Mitchell: "my"
5 Mitchell: "love thee more"
6 Mitchell: "ever I"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]