Four Songs

Song Cycle by Vivian Fine (1913 - 2000)

Word count: 255

1. The lover in winter plaineth for the spring  [sung text checked 1 time]

O western wind, when wilt thou blow
That the small rain down can rain?
Christ, that my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again.

Authorship

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

2. Comfort to a Youth that had lost his Love  [sung text checked 1 time]

What needs complaints,
When she a place
Has with the race
	Of saints?

In endless mirth
She thinks not on
What 's said or done
	In Earth.

She sees no tears,
Or any tone
Of thy deep groan
	She hears:

Nor does she mind
Or think on 't now
That ever thou
	Wast kind;

But changed above,
She likes not there,
As she did here,
	Thy love.

Forbear therefore,
And lull asleep
Thy woes, and weep
	No more.

Authorship

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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • GER German (Deutsch) (Beate Binnig) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

3. She weeps over Rahoon [sung text checked 1 time]

Rain on Rahoon falls softly, softly falling,
Where my dark lover lies.
Sad is his voice that calls me, sadly calling,
At grey moonrise.

Love, hear thou
How soft, how sad his voice is ever calling,
Ever unanswered and the dark rain falling,
Then as now.

Dark too our hearts, O love, shall lie and cold
As his sad heart has lain
Under the moongrey nettles, the black mould
And muttering rain.

Authorship

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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Elle pleure sur Rahoon", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Sie weint über Rahoon", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

First published in Poetry, November 1917

Researcher for this text: Barbara Miller

4. Tilly [sung text checked 1 time]

He travels after a winter sun,
Urging the cattle along a cold red road,
Calling to them, a voice they know,
He drives his beasts above Cabra.

The voice tells them home is warm.
They moo and make brute music with their hoofs.
He drives them with a flowering branch before him,
Smoke pluming their foreheads.

Boor, bond of the herd,
Tonight stretch full by the fire!
I bleed by the black stream
For my torn bough!

Authorship

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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Bonus", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , "Zugabe", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Barbara Miller