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Oh, the days are gone, when beauty bright My heart's chain wove; When my dream of life, from morn till night Was love, still love. New hope may bloom, And days may come Of milder, calmer beam, But there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream: No, there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream. Tho' the bard to purer fame may soar, When wild youth's past; Tho' he win the wise, who frown'd before, To smile at last; He'll never meet A joy so sweet, In all his noon of fame, As when first he sung to woman's ear His soul-felt flame, And, at every close, she blush'd to hear The one lov'd name! No, -- that hallow'd form is ne'er forgot Which first love trac'd! Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot Of memory's waste. 'Twas odour fled As soon as shed: 'Twas morning's wingéd dream: 'Twas a light, that ne'er can shine again On life's dull stream! Oh! 'twas light that ne'er can shine again On life's dull stream!
C. Ives sets stanza 1
About the headline (FAQ)
Authorship:
- by Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852), "Love's young dream", appears in Irish Melodies, 4th No., first published 1811 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Charles Edward Ives (1874 - 1954), "Canon", 1894, published 1921, stanza 1 [ voice and piano ], NY : G. Schirmer [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Jeune rêve d'amour", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 33
Word count: 177
Ô, ils sont passés les jours où brillante Beauté Enlaçait mon cœur de chaînes, Où mon rêve de vie, du matin à la nuit, N'était qu'amour, et encore amour. Un nouvel espoir peut éclore Et des jours peuvent arriver Des jours radieux, plus doux, plus calmes, Mais il n'y a rien de moitié si doux dans la vie Qu'un jeune rêve d'amour : Non, il n'y a rien de moitié si doux dans la vie Qu'un jeune rêve d'amour. Le barde peut s'élever à une renommée plus pure Quand la fougue de la jeunesse passe ; Celui-là qui peut séduire le sage qui était sombre, Et finir par le faire sourire Jamais il n'éprouvera Une joie aussi douce, À l'apogée de sa renommée, Que lorsqu'il chanta pour la première fois à l'oreille d'une femme La flamme de son cœur, Et qu'à chaque pause elle rougit d'entendre Le nom de l'être aimé. Non, elle n'est jamais oublié, cette marque sacrée Qui est la trace d'un premier amour : Elle hante encore les endroits les plus verts Du désert de notre mémoire. Ce fut un parfum envolé Aussitôt que déversé ; Ce fut le rêve ailé d'un matin ; Ce fut une lumière qui jamais plus ne peut briller Sur le morne courant de la vie : Ô, ce fut une lumière qui jamais plus ne peut briller Sur le morne courant de la vie.
Authorship:
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2014 by Pierre Mathé, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in English by Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852), "Love's young dream", appears in Irish Melodies, 4th No., first published 1811
This text was added to the website: 2014-04-16
Line count: 33
Word count: 233