A keen, insistent hint of dawn Fell from the mountain height; A wan, uncertain gleam betrayed The faltering of the night. The emphasis of silence made The fog above the brook Intensely pale; the trees took on A haunted, haggard look. Such quiet came, expectancy Filled all the earth and sky: Time seemed to pause a little space; I heard a dream go by!
Six Song Pictures
Song Cycle by Florence Newell Barbour (1867 - 1946)
1. Before dawn  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
Text Authorship:
- by (James) Maurice Thompson (1844 - 1901), "Before dawn"
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]2. The coral grove  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
Deep in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet, and gold-fish rove, Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with falling dew, But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Far down in the green and glassy brine. The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift, And the pearl shells spangle the flinty snow; From coral rocks the sea plants lift Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow; The water is calm and still below, For the winds and waves are absent there, And the sands are bright as the stars that glow In the motionless fields of upper air: There with its waving blade of green, The sea-flag streams through the silent water, And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen To blush, like a banner bathed in slaughter: There with a light and easy motion, The fan-coral sweeps through the clear deep sea; And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean. Are bending like corn on file upland lea: And life, in rare and beautiful forms, Is sporting amid those bowers of stone, And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms, Has made the top of the wave his own: And when the ship from his fury flies, Where the myriad voices of ocean roar, When the wind-god frowns in the murky skies, And demons are waiting the wreck on shore; Then far below in the peaceful sea, The purple mullet, and gold-fish rove, Where the waters murmur tranquilly, Through the bending twigs of the coral grove.
Text Authorship:
- by James Gates Percival (1795 - 1856), "The coral grove"
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]3. Tell me thou wanderers  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
Tell me, [thou Star]1, whose wings of light Speed thee in thy fiery flight, In what cavern of the night Will thy pinions close now? Tell me, Moon, thou pale and grey Pilgrim, of Heav'ns homeless way, In what depth of night or day, Seekest thou repose now? Weary wind, who wanderest Like the world's rejected guest Hast thou still some secret nest On the tree or billow?
Text Authorship:
- by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 - 1822), "The world's wanderers", first published 1824
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CHI Chinese (中文) [singable] (Dr Huaixing Wang) , copyright © 2024, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- CZE Czech (Čeština) (Jaroslav Vrchlický) , "Poutníci světa"
1 Ives: "Star"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
4. O wild West Wind  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
I O wild West Wind, [ thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill: Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear! II Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread On the blue surface of thine aery surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge Of the dying year, to which this closing night Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, Vaulted with all thy congregated might Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh, hear! III Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear! IV If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share The impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even I were as in my boyhood, and could be The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven, As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.]1 V Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth The trumpet of a prophecy! O, Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Text Authorship:
- by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 - 1822), "Ode to the West Wind"
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- HUN Hungarian (Magyar) (Árpád Tóth) , "Óda a nyugati Szélhez"
1 omitted by Elgar
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
5. Every wave caught a star
Language: English
— This text is not currently
in the database but will be added
as soon as we obtain it. —
6. The storm
Language: English
— This text is not currently
in the database but will be added
as soon as we obtain it. —
Text Authorship:
- by George Gordon Noel Byron, Lord Byron (1788 - 1824)
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Total word count: 837