Shine! Shine! Shine! Pour down your warmth, great sun! While we bask -- we two together. Two together! Winds blow South or winds blow North, Day come white, or night come black, Home or rivers and mountains from home, Singing all [the]1 time, minding no time, While we two keep together.
The Last Invocation
Song Cycle by Ian Venables (b. 1955)
1. Shine! Shine! Shine!  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
Text Authorship:
- by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892), no title, appears in Leaves of Grass, in Sea-Drift, no. 3
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View original text (without footnotes)1 omitted by Kernochan, Vaughan Williams
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Garrett Medlock [Guest Editor]
2. Out of May’s Shows Selected  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
Apple orchards, the trees all cover'd with blossoms; Wheat fields carpeted far and near in vital emerald green; The eternal, exhaustless freshness of each early morning; The yellow, golden, transparent haze of the warm afternoon sun; The aspiring lilac bushes with profuse purple or white flowers.
Text Authorship:
- by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892), "Out of May’s Shows Selected"
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]3. As at Thy Portals also Death  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
As at thy portals also death, Entering thy sovereign, dim, illimitable grounds, To memories of my mother, to the divine blending, maternity, To her, buried and gone, yet buried not, gone not from me, (I see again the calm benignant face fresh and beautiful still, I sit by the form in the coffin, I kiss and kiss convulsively again the sweet old lips, the cheeks, the closed eyes in the coffin;) To her, the ideal woman, practical, spiritual, of all of earth, life, love, to me the best, I grave a monumental line, before I go, amid these songs, And set a tombstone here.
Text Authorship:
- by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892), "As at Thy Portals also Death"
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]4. The Last Invocation  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
1 At the last, tenderly, From the walls of the powerful, fortress'd house, From the clasp of the knitted locks -- from the keep of the well-closed doors, Let me be wafted. 2 Let me glide noiselessly forth; With the key of softness unlock the locks -- with a whisper, Set [ope]1 the doors, O Soul! 3 Tenderly! be not impatient! (Strong is your hold, O mortal flesh! Strong is your hold, O Love.)
Text Authorship:
- by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892), "The last invocation", appears in Leaves of Grass, first published 1900
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View original text (without footnotes)1 Bacon: "up"; Pederson: "open"
Research team for this page: Ted Perry , Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor]
Total word count: 269