The yellow poplar leaves have strown Thy quiet mound, thou slumberest Where winter's winds will be unknown; So deep thy rest, So deep thy rest. Sleep on, my love, thy dreams are sweet, If thou hast dreams: the flowers I brought I lay aside for passing feet, Thou needest nought, Thou needest, needest nought. The grapes are gather'd from the hills, The wood is piled, the song bird gone, The breath of early evening chills; My love, my love, sleep on; My love, my love, sleep on.
Four Songs , opus 14
by Roger Quilter (1877 - 1953)
1. Autumn evening  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
Authorship:
- by Arthur Maquarie (b. 1874)
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CHI Chinese (中文) (Dr Huaixing Wang) , "秋天的傍晚", copyright © 2024, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
2. April  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
April, April, Laugh thy girlish laughter; Then, the moment after, Weep thy girlish tears! April, that mine ears Like a lover greetest, If I tell thee, sweetest, All my hopes and fears, April, April, Laugh thy golden laughter, But, the moment after, Weep thy golden tears!
Authorship:
- by William Watson, Sir (1858 - 1935), "Song", appears in The Hope of the World and Other Poems, first published 1897
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]3. A last year's rose  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
From the brake the Nightingale Sings exulting to the Rose; Though he sees her waxing pale In her passionate repose While she triumphs waxing frail, Fading even while she glows; Though he knows How it goes - Knows of last year's Nightingale, Dead with last year's Rose. Wise the enamoured Nightingale, Wise the well-beloved Rose! Love and life shall still prevail, Nor the silence at the close Break the magic of the tale In the telling, though it shows - Who but knows How it goes! Life a last year's Nightingale, Love a last year's Rose.
Authorship:
- by William Ernest Henley (1849 - 1903), no title, appears in A Book of Verses, first published 1888
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Researcher for this page: Ted Perry4. Song of the blackbird  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
The nightingale has a lyre of gold, The lark's is a clarion call, And the blackbird plays but a boxwood flute, But I love him best of all. For his song is all of the joy of life, And we in the [mad]1, spring weather, We two have listened till he [sang]2 Our hearts and lips together.
Authorship:
- by William Ernest Henley (1849 - 1903), no title, appears in A Book of Verses, first published 1888
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View original text (without footnotes)1 Parker: "glad"
2 Parker: "sung"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]