by William Blake (1757 - 1827)
Fresh from the dewy hill, the merry year
Language: English
Fresh from the dewy hill, the merry year Smiles on my head and mounts his flaming car; Round my young brows the laurel wreathes a shade And rising glories beam around my head. My feet are wing'd while o'er the dewy lawn I meet my maiden risen like the morn. Oh bless those holy feet, like angels' feet; Oh bless those limbs, beaming with heavenly light! Like as an angel glittering in the sky In times of innocence and holy joy; The joyful shepherd stops his grateful song To hear the music of an angel's tongue. So when she speaks, the voice of Heaven I hear; So when we walk, nothing impure comes near; Each field seems Eden, and each calm retreat; Each village seems the haunt of holy feet. But that sweet village, where my black-eyed maid Closes her eyes in sleep beneath night's shade, Whene'er I enter, more than mortal fire Burns in my soul, and does my song inspire.
About the headline (FAQ)
Authorship:
- by William Blake (1757 - 1827), "Song" [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 Christopher Montague Edmunds (1899 - 1990), "Fresh from the dewy hill", published c1924 [SATB chorus a cappella], Glasgow : Bayley & Ferguson [text not verified]
- by Leo Smith (1881 - 1952), "Fresh from the dewy hill", published 1929 [women's chorus a cappella], Toronto : Alexander & Cable [text not verified]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2010-04-15
Line count: 20
Word count: 162