Night of all nights, rich with the wind's wild laughter! [ ... ]
Song Cycle by Gardner Read (b. 1913)
1. Night of all nights  [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Jesse Hilton Stuart (1907 - 1984), copyright © 1972 [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
2. The first jasmines  [sung text checked 1 time]
Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines! I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with these jasmines, these white jasmines. I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth; I have heard the liquid murmur of the river through the darkness of midnight; Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of the road in the lonely waste, like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover. Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines that I held in my hand when I was a child. Many a glad day has come in my life, and I have laughed with merry makers on festival nights. On grey mornings of rain I have crooned many an idle song. I have worn 'round my neck the evening wreath of bakulas woven by the hand of love. Yet my heart is still sweet with the memory of the first fresh jasmines that filled my hands when I was a child.
- by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), "The first jasmines", appears in The Crescent Moon, no. 34, first published 1913 [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
- a text in Bangla (Bengali) by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), no title [text unavailable]
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3. I hear an army  [sung text not yet checked]
I hear an army charging upon the land, And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees: Arrogant, in black armour, behind them stand, Disdaining the reins, with flutt'ring whips, the charioteers. They cry unto the night their battlename: I moan in sleep when I hear afar their whirling laughter. They cleave the gloom of dreams, a blinding flame, Clanging, clanging upon the heart as upon an anvil. They come shaking in triumph their long, green hair: They come out of the sea and run shouting by the shore. My heart, have you no wisdom thus to despair? My love, my love, why have you left me alone?
- by James Joyce (1882 - 1941), no title, appears in Chamber Music, no. 36, first published 1907 [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
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