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English Lyrics, Eleventh Set
by Charles Hubert Hastings Parry, Sir (1848 - 1918)
1. One golden thread
Language: English
Authorship:
2. What part of dread eternity  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
What part of dread eternity Are those strange minutes which I gain; Mazed with the doubt of fear and pain; Whenas thy delicate face I see, A little while before farewell? What share of the world's yearning tide, That flash, when new day bare and white Blots out my half-dream's faint delight, And there is nothing by my side, And well remembered is farewell? What drop in the grey flood of tears, That time when the long day toiled through Shows nought for me to do; And nothing worth my labour bears The longing of the last farewell? What pity from the heavens above, What heed from out eternity, What word from the swift world to me? Speak, heed and pity, O tender love, That knew'st the days before farewell.
Authorship:
- possibly by Charles Hubert Hastings Parry, Sir (1848 - 1918) [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
3. The spirit of the Spring  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
As I went down to Taunton Town, Pondering thoughts of pain, The very spirit of the Spring Came glancing up the lane. Violet eyes soft and wise, A mien of matchless grace, Fluttering feet that skimmed the street Like swallows in the chase. Upon her arm of moulded charm A maund of nodding flowers, A radiant crew, all drenched with dew From Quantock's breezy bowers. Primroses, violets, Into my heart they shone; Till in their gleam of golden joy All my grief was gone.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
4. The blackbird  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
As I went up a woodland walk In Taunton Dene, when May was green, I heard a bird so blithely talk, The trembling sprays between, That I stood still With right good will To know what he might mean. No yellow horned honey-suckle Hath e'er distilled the sweets he spilled In one long dulcet dewy chuckle That blackbird golden billed; Ay piping plain, "Hope, hope again!" Till my heart's grief was stilled.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
5. The faithful lover  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
She hath grown cold, whose kindness won me to her, Wherefore is this? Wishing them more, I find her favours fewer. What is amiss? Shall I complain? O, no! true love complains not, Being denied. Shall I disdain? O, no! true love disdains not, Only false pride. If, when she liked, to love my friendship flowered, With too fond haste, Say why should hers, to scorn injurious soured, As sudden waste? Shall I less love her for her heart's denial? Nay, year by year, Since she is worthy, thou shalt find thy trial Daily more dear; Till, it may be, the faithful spirit in thee, Fresh from love's fast, Out of her eyes his look of looks shall win thee, Lover, at last.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
6. If I might ride on puissant wing
Language: English
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Authorship:
- by Julian Sturgis (1848 - 1904)
7. Why art thou slow  [sung text not yet checked]
Language: English
Why art thou slow, thou rest of trouble, Death, To stop a wretch's breath, That calls on thee and offers her sad heart A prey unto thy dart? I am nor young nor fair; be, therefore, bold; Sorrow hath made me old, Deformed, and wrinkled; all that I can crave Is quiet in my grave. Such as live happy, hold long life a jewel, But to me thou art cruel If thou end not my tedious misery, And I soon cease to be. Strike, and strike home, then ; pity unto me, In one short hour's delay, is tyranny.
Authorship:
- by Philip Massinger (1583 - 1640), from Emperor of the East, first published 1632 [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
8. She is my love beyond all thought  [sung text checked 1 time]
Language: English
She is my love beyond all thought, Though she has wrought my deepest dole; Yet dearer for the cruel pain Than one who fain would make me whole. She is my glittering gem of gems, Who yet contemns my fortune bright; Whose cheek but glows with redder scorn Since mine has worn a stricken white. She is my sun and moon and star, Who yet so far and cold doth keep, She would not even o'er my bier One tender tear of pity weep. Into my heart unsought she came, A wasting flame, a haunting care; Into my heart of hearts, ah! why? And left a sigh for ever there.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931), "She is my love", appears in The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves, in Songs of the Gael [and] A Gaelic Story-Telling, first published 1908 [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
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Researcher for this text: Ted PerryTotal word count: 618