They mouth love's language. Gnash The thirteen teeth Your lean jaws grin with. Lash Your itch and quailing, nude greed of the flesh. Love's breath in you is stale, worded or sung, As sour as cat's breath, Harsh of tongue. This grey that stares Lies not, stark skin and bone. Leave greasy lips their kissing. None Will choose her what you see to mouth upon. Dire hunger holds his hour. Pluck forth your heart, saltblood, a fruit of tears. Pluck and devour!
Two Songs , opus 49
by (Aynsley) Eugene Goossens, Sir (1893 - 1962)
1. A memory of the players in a mirror at midnight
Language: English
Text Authorship:
- by James Joyce (1882 - 1941), "A memory of the players in a mirror at midnight", written 1917, appears in Pomes Penyeach, no. 11
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Un souvenir des acteurs dans un miroir à minuit", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
2. Searching for Lambs [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
As I went out one May morning One May morning betime, I met a maid from home had strayed Just as the sun did shine. "What makes you rise so soon, my dear, Your journey to pursue? Your pretty little feet they tread so sweet Strike off the morning dew." "I'm going to feed my father's flock, His young and tender lambs That over hills and over dales Lie waiting for their dams." "Oh stay, oh stay, you handsome maid, And rest a moment here, For there is none but you alone That I do love so dear." "How gloriously the sun does shine! How pleasant is the air! I'd rather rest on a true love's breast Than any other where." "For I am thine and thou art mine No man shall uncomfort thee We'll join our hands in wedded bands And married we will be."