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There is a morn by men unseen Whose maids upon remoter green Keep their seraphic May, And all day long, with dance and game, And gambol I may never name, Employ their holiday. Here to light measure move the feet Which walk no more the village street Nor by the wood are found, Here are the birds that sought the sun When last year's distaff idle hung, And summer's brows were bound. Ne'er saw I such a wondrous scene, Ne'er such a ring on such a green Nor so serene array, As if the stars, some summer night, Should swing their cups of Chrysolite And revel till the day. Like thee to dance, like thee to sing, People upon the mystic green, I ask each new May morn. I wait thy far fantastic bells Announcing me in other dells Unto the different dawn!
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Text Authorship:
- by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title [author's text not yet checked 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 Emma Lou Diemer (1927 - 2024), "There is a morn unseen", 1991, published 1993, first performed 1992 [ chorus and orchestra ], Seesaw [sung text not yet checked]
- by Gordon Getty (b. 1933), "There is a morn by men unseen" [ soprano and piano ], from The White Election - A Song Cycle for soprano and piano on 32 poems of Emily Dickinson, Part 1 : The Pensive Spring, no. 2 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Julian Philips (b. 1969), "There is a morn by men unseen", first performed 2003 [ voice and piano ], confirmed with a concert programme booklet [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Barbara Miller
This text was added to the website: 2011-01-12
Line count: 24
Word count: 143
Ein Morgen, den kein Mensch gesehn: Auf fernen Fluren Mädchen gehn zum Engelfest im Mai - den ganzen Tag verbringen sie mit Reigen, Tanz und munterm Spiel, mit Freud' und Tollerei. Leichtfüßig trippelt dort einher, was nun in Dorf und Wald nicht mehr geht und gesehen wird: Vögel, die sich zur Sonn gewandt als still im Jahr die Spindel stand - man Sommers Haupt geziert. Noch nie solch Wunder ich erfuhr, noch solche Rund' auf solcher Flur, noch solche heitre Pracht: Als schwenkten in der Sommernacht die Sterne Kelche aus Smaragd, durchfeierten die Nacht. Wie ihr zu tanzen, euren Sang, ihr, auf dem mystischen Gefild, erbitte ich im Mai. Ich wart, dass euer Glockenklang mich auch in Tälern kündigt an mit anderm Morgengrau’n!
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2016 by Bertram Kottmann, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Bertram Kottmann. Contact: BKottmann (AT) t-online.de
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Based on:
- a text in English by Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886), no title
This text was added to the website: 2016-05-04
Line count: 24
Word count: 121