I have no ale, No wine I want; No ornaments, My meat is scant. No maid is near, I have no wife; But here's my pipe And, on my life: With it to smoke, And woo the Muse, To be a king I would not choose. But I crave all, When she does fail -- Wife, ornaments. Meat, wine and ale.
10 poems by William H. Davies for voice and piano
Song Cycle by Otto Freudenthal (b. 1934)
1. The muse  [sung text not yet checked]
Authorship:
- by William Henry Davies (1871 - 1940), "The muse", appears in Nature Poems and Others, first published 1908
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]2. The rain  [sung text not yet checked]
I hear leaves drinking rain; I hear rich leaves on top Giving the poor beneath Drop after drop; 'Tis a sweet noise to hear These green leaves drinking near. And when the Sun comes out, After this Rain shall stop, A wondrous Light will fill Each dark, round drop; I hope the Sun shines bright; 'Twill be a lovely sight.
Authorship:
- by William Henry Davies (1871 - 1940), "The rain", appears in Nature Poems and Others, first published 1908
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]3. Sweet music  [sung text not yet checked]
Ah, Music ! it doth sound more sweet Than rain on crisped leaves ; or when Beauty doth stroke a kitten rose, And screams, to feel her fingers then Scratched by its little claws. Drowned, Music, in thy waves, I saw My whole long Past before me go ; Now, rouse me with a merry shout -- Such as charm children, when Winds blow The light they love clean out.
Authorship:
- by William Henry Davies (1871 - 1940), "Sweet music", appears in Nature Poems and Others, first published 1908
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]4. The one real gem  [sung text not yet checked]
Wealth, Power, and Fame -- aye, even Love, Are but an hour's delight, and go ; But Sleep's a blessing to hold fast Till her warm dew becomes Death's snow ; All men that scorned Sleep in the past, For any thing beneath the Sun, Will rue it ere their life be done. Much it perplexed of late to know What made my heart with joy so light ; Until I thought of how sweet Sleep Did, for so many hours each night, Keep me in her delicious deep : Charmed me each night with her sweet powers, In one unbroken stretch of hours. All-powerful Sleep, thou canst give slaves Kings for attendants ; and their straw Becomes in thy soft hands like down ; Thou one real gem, without a flaw, That purely shineth in Life's crown ; For Wealth, and Power, and Fame are paste, That into common ashes waste.
Authorship:
- by William Henry Davies (1871 - 1940), "The one real gem", appears in Nature Poems and Others, first published 1908
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]5. The visitor  [sung text not yet checked]
Her beauty is a wasted thing, She's neither sweet nor kind; And flowers that have no other eyes Than raindrops soon go blind. She is a park that has no deer To give it life or grace; Until I think the wilderness A more enchanted place. Her Ten Commandments are her own, She knows no other Creed; The only babies in her eyes Are selfish thoughts and greed. Her beauty is a wasted thing, Is Nature's loss and pain; When will the little, plain, brown bird Come back and sing again!
Authorship:
- by William Henry Davies (1871 - 1940), "The visitor", first published 1932
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]6. The milkmaid's call  [sung text not yet checked]
As I walked down a lane this morn, I heard a sweet voice cry, Come, Come ! And then I saw ten dull, fat cows Begin to race like horses home ; Like horses in their pace, Though lacking horses' grace. That voice, which did uplift those feet Of cows, uplifted mine likewise ; For, with a heart so light, I walked Until the sweat did blind my eyes ; And all the way back home, I heard her cry, Come, Come !
Authorship:
- by William Henry Davies (1871 - 1940), "The milkmaid's call", appears in Nature Poems and Others, first published 1908
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]7. Jenny  [sung text not yet checked]
Now I grow old, and flowers are weeds, I think of days when weeds were flowers; When Jenny lived across the way, And shared with me her childhood hours. Her little teeth did seem so sharp, So bright and bold, when they were shown, You'd think if passion stirred her she Could bite and hurt a man of stone. Her curls, like golden snakes, would lie Upon each shoulder's front, as though To guard her face on either side - They raised themselves when Winds did blow. How sly they were! I could not see, Nor she feel them begin to climb Across her lips, till there they were, To be forced back time after time. If I could see an Elm in May Turn all his dark leaves into pearls, And shake them in the light of noon - That sight had not shamed Jenny's curls. And, like the hay, I swear her hair Was getting golder every day; Yes, golder when 'twas harvested, Under a bonnet stacked away. Ah, Jenny's gone, I know not where; Her face I cannot hope to see; And every time I think of her The world seems one big grave to me.
Authorship:
- by William Henry Davies (1871 - 1940), "Jenny", appears in Nature Poems and Others, first published 1908
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]8. A great time  [sung text not yet checked]
Sweet Chance, that led my steps abroad, Beyond the town, where wild flow'rs grow -- A rainbow and a cuckoo, Lord, How rich and great the times are now! Know all ye sheep And cows, that keep On staring that I stand so long In grass that's wet from heavy rain -- A rainbow, and a cuckoo's song May never come together again, May never come [from]1 This side the tomb. A rainbow, and a cuckoo's song May never come together again...
Authorship:
- by William Henry Davies (1871 - 1940), "A great time", appears in The Bird of Paradise and Other Poems, first published 1914
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
9. A mother to her sick child  [sung text not yet checked]
Thou canst not understand my words No love for me was meant: The smile that lately crossed thy face Was but a accident. The music's thine, but mine the tears That make thy lullaby; To-day I'll rock thee into sleep, To-morrow thou must die. And when our babies sleep their last, Like aged dames or men, They need nor mothers lullaby, Nor any rocking then.
Authorship:
- by William Henry Davies (1871 - 1940), "A mother to her sick child"
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]10. Come, thou sweet Wonder  [sung text not yet checked]
Come, thou sweet Wonder, by whose power We more or less enjoy our years; That mak'st a child forget the breast, And dri'st at once the children's tears, Till sleep shall bring their minds more rest. Come to my heavy rain of care, And make it weigh like dew; charm me With Beauty's hair, her eyes or lips; With mountain dawn, or sunset sea That's like a thousand burning ships.
Authorship:
- by William Henry Davies (1871 - 1940), "Come, thou sweet Wonder"
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]