Three Songs , opus 78

by Amy Marcy Cheney Beach (1867 - 1944)

1. Meadow‑Larks
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Sweet, sweet, sweet! 
O happy that I am!
(Listen to the meadow-larks,
across the fields that sing!)
Sweet, sweet, sweet!
O subtle breath of balm,
O winds that blow,
O buds that grow,
O rapture of the spring!
Sweet, sweet, sweet!
O skies serene and blue,
That shut the radiant pastures in,
that fold the mountain's crest!
Sweet, sweet, sweet!
What of the clouds ye knew?
The vessels ride a golden tide
Upon a sea at rest.
Sweet, sweet, sweet! 
Who prates of care and pain?
Who says that life is sorrowful?
O life, so glad, so fleet!
Ah! he who leads the noblest life
Finds life the noblest gain,
The tears of pain a tender rain
To make its waters sweet.
Sweet, sweet, sweet! 
O happy world that is!
Dear heart! I hear across the fields
my mateling pipe and call.
Sweet, sweet, sweet! 
O world so full of bliss,
O world so full of bliss!
For life is love, the world is love,
And love is over all,
For life is love, the world is love,
And love is over all!

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2. Night Song at Amalfi  [sung text not yet checked]

Language: English 
I asked the heaven of stars
 What I should give my love --
It answered me with silence,
 Silence above.

I asked the darkened sea
 Down where the fishers go --
It answered me with silence,
 Silence below.

Oh, I could give him weeping,
 Or I could give him song --
But how can I give silence
 My whole life long?

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3. In blossom time  [sung text not yet checked]

Language: English 
It's O my heart, my heart,
  To be out in the sun and sing --
To sing and shout in the fields about,
  In the balm and the blossoming!
 
Sing loud, O bird in the tree;
  O bird, sing loud in the sky,
And honey-bees, blacken the clover beds --
  There is none of you glad as I.
 
The leaves laugh low in the wind,
  Laugh low, with the wind at play;
And the odorous call of the flowers all
  Entices my soul away!
 
For O but the world is fair, is fair --
  And O but the world is sweet!
I will out in the gold of the blossoming mould,
  And sit at the Master's feet.
 
And the love my heart would speak,
  I will fold in the lily's rim,
That th' lips of the blossom, more pure and meek,
  May offer it up to Him.
 
Then sing in the hedgerow green, O thrush,
  O skylark, sing in the blue;
Sing loud, sing clear, that the King may hear,
  And my soul shall sing with you!

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