Five Songs for Mezzo-Soprano and Orchestra

Ah, Sun-flower! weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime,
Where the traveller's journey is done:

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves and aspire
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.

How the Chimney-sweeper's cry
Every black'ning Church appalls,
And the hapless Soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.

But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born Infant's tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

Sweet dreams, form a shade
[O'er]1 my lovely infant's head,
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams,
By happy, silent, moony beams.

Sweet Sleep, with soft down
Weave thy brows an infant crown;
Sweet Sleep, angel mild,
Hover o'er my happy child.

Sweet smiles, in the night
Hover over my delight.
Sweet smiles, mother's [smiles]2,
All the livelong night [beguiles]3.

Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
Chase not slumber from [thy]4 eyes!
Sweet [moans]5, sweeter [smiles]2,
All the dovelike moans [beguiles]3.

Sleep, sleep, happy child:
All creation slept and smiled.
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
While o'er thee [thy]6 mother weep.

Sweet babe, in thy face
Holy image I can trace;
Sweet babe, once like thee
Thy maker lay and wept for me,

Wept for me, for thee, for all,
When he was an infant small.
Thou his image ever see,
Heavenly face that smiles on thee --

Smiles on thee, on me, on all,
Who became an infant small,
Infant smiles are his own smiles;
Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.

I fear'd the fury of my wind
Would blight all blossoms fair and true;
And my sun it shin'd and shin'd,
And my wind it never blew.

But a blossom fair or true
Was not found on any tree;
For all blossoms grew and grew
Fruitless, false, tho' fair to see.

Cruelty has a human heart,
 And Jealousy a human face,
Terror the human form divine,
 And Secrecy the human dress.

The human dress is forgèd iron,
 The human form a fiery forge,
The human face a furnace seal'd,
 The human heart its hungry gorge.