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The ten hours' light is abating, And a late bird wings across, Where the pines, like waltzers waiting, Give their black heads a toss. Beech leaves, that yellow the noon-time, Float past like specks in the eye; I set every tree in my June time, And now they obscure the sky. And the children who ramble through here Conceive that there never has been A time when no tall trees grew here, That none will in time be seen.
Text Authorship:
- by Thomas Hardy (1840 - 1928), "At Day-Close in November", appears in Satires of Circumstance, Lyrics and Reveries with Miscellaneous Pieces, first published 1914 [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 (Edward) Benjamin Britten (1913 - 1976), "At Day-Close in November", op. 52 no. 1 (1953), published 1954 [ high voice and piano ], from Winter words, no. 1 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Ľubica Čekovská (b. 1975), "At Day-Close in November", op. 9 (1997) [ mezzo-soprano and piano ], from Six Songs, no. 6 [sung text not yet checked]
- by Arnold Atkinson Cooke (1906 - 2005), "At Day-Close in November" [ baritone, piano ], from Country Songs [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Christopher Park) , "À la tombée du jour en novembre", copyright © 2022, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Novembertages Ende", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) [singable] (Bertram Kottmann) , "Novembertags Ende", copyright © 2019, (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: 12
Word count: 79
Zehn Stunden Licht am vergehen, und spät noch ein Vogel fliegt, wo Schwarzkiefern wartend stehen bis jede sich walzernd wiegt. Buchenlaub, Gold zur Mittagsstund, treibt wie gesprenkeltes Licht; jung war ich, pflanzte die Bäume und nun fehlt mir zum Himmel die Sicht. Und die Kinder, des Wegs manchmal hier, stell’n sich vor, es gab nie eine Zeit ohne Wald in diesem Revier - und dies bis in Ewigkeit.
Text Authorship:
- Singable translation from English to German (Deutsch) copyright © 2019 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 Thomas Hardy (1840 - 1928), "At Day-Close in November", appears in Satires of Circumstance, Lyrics and Reveries with Miscellaneous Pieces, first published 1914
This text was added to the website: 2019-11-16
Line count: 12
Word count: 67