Through the upland meadows I go alone. For I dreamed of someone last night Who is waiting for me. Flower and blossom, tell me do you know of her? Have the rocks hidden her voice? They are very blue and still. Long upward road that is leading me, Light hearted I quit you, For the long loose ripples of the meadow-grass Invite me to dance upon them. Quivering grass, Daintily poised For her foot's tripping. O blown clouds, could I only race up like you! Oh, the last slopes that are sun-drenched and steep! Look, the sky! Across black valleys Rise blue-white aloft Jagged unwrinkled mountains, ranges of death. Solitude. Silence.
Four poems , opus 16
by Marion Eugénie Bauer (1882 - 1955)
1. Through the upland meadows  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
Authorship:
- by John Gould Fletcher (1886 - 1950), no title, appears in Goblins and Pagodas, in Blue Symphony, no. 2, first published 1916
See other settings of this text.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]2. I love the night  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
I love the night that in long violet shroud Slowly and lovingly wraps up the day, Hiding its blurred imperfections In endless tenderness. I love the day's High violet cone of light, With thin haze on the horizon Like a wavering summer sea. But most of all I love midsummer dawn, When far'off planes of light ascend and tremble together Like distant purple waves, the sound of whose dim breaking Is lost in the wild babel of awaking birds.
Authorship:
- by John Gould Fletcher (1886 - 1950), no title, appears in Goblins and Pagodas, in Violet Symphony, no. 3, first published 1916
Go to the single-text view
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]3. Midsummer dreams  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
I There is a tall white weed growing at the top of this sand hill: In the grass It is very still. It lifts its heavy bracts of flattened bloom Against the sky Hazily grey with brume. Out over yonder boats pass And the swallows Flatten themselves on the grass. The lake is silvering beneath the heat. The wind's feet Touch lazily each crest, Like white gulls slow flapping To windward. One rose white cloud slowly disengages, loosening itself, And stands Above the larkspur-coloured water : Like Dione's daughter Braiding up her wet hair with her pale hands. II The moon puts out her face at a rift between the trees, Which do not lift one drooping leaf, this night of June. There is no lazy breeze to set them clashing adrift. Thin gleams of silver rise and break in the air, Fireflies here and there. Forest of blue masses suddenly quivering with rapid points of white, Are the forests beneath the sea where no breeze passes As still as you to-night? The moon puts out her face at a rift between the trees; Through my window, the bed cut evenly with diagonal shafts of light, Is a boat rocking out adrift. Under it bend the silver tips of the dark blue coral trees, And fireflies like glass fish Drift and ripple upwards in the breeze.
Authorship:
- by John Gould Fletcher (1886 - 1950), "Midsummer dreams (Symphony in White and Blue)", appears in Goblins and Pagodas, first published 1916
Go to the single-text view
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]4. In the bosom of the desert  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
In the bosom of the desert I will lie at the last. Not the grey desert of sand But the golden desert of great wild grasses, This shall receive my soul. In the high plateaus, The wind will be like a flute's note calling me Day after day. Short bursts of surf, The wind climbs up and stops in the grass; And the golden petals Brush drowsily over my face.
Authorship:
- by John Gould Fletcher (1886 - 1950), no title, appears in Goblins and Pagodas, in Golden Symphony, no. 3, first published 1916
Go to the single-text view
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]