How sweet I roam'd from field to field, And tasted all the summer's pride, 'Till I the prince of love beheld, Who in the sunny beams did glide! He shew'd me lilies for my hair, And blushing roses for my brow; He led me through his gardens fair, Where all his golden pleasures grow. With sweet May dews my wings were wet, And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage; He caught me in his silken net, And shut me in his golden cage. He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty.
Songs of Love and Madness
Song Cycle by Dmitri Nikolaevich Smirnov (1948 - 2020)
1. The golden cage  [sung text not yet checked]
Authorship:
- by William Blake (1757 - 1827), "Song: How sweet I roam'd from field to field", appears in Poetical Sketches, first published 1783
See other settings of this text.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]2. Despair  [sung text not yet checked]
My silks and fine array, My smiles and languish'd air, By love are driv'n away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: Such end true lovers have. His face is fair as heav'n, When springing buds unfold; O why to him was't giv'n, Whose heart is wintry cold? His breast is love's all worship'd tomb, Where all love's pilgrims come. Bring me an axe and spade, Bring me a winding sheet; When I my grave have made, Let winds and tempests beat: Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay, True love doth pass away!
Authorship:
- by William Blake (1757 - 1827)
See other settings of this text.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]3. Love and harmony  [sung text not yet checked]
Love and harmony combine And around our souls intwine While thy branches mix with mine, And our roots together join. Joys upon our branches sit, Chirping loud, and singing sweet; Like gentle streams beneath our feet Innocence and virtue meet. Thou the golden fruit dost bear, I am clad in flowers fair; Thy sweet boughs perfume the air, And the turtle buildeth there There she sits and feeds her young, Sweet I hear her mournful song; And thy lovely leaves among There is love: I hear his tongue
Authorship:
- by William Blake (1757 - 1827), appears in Poetical Sketches
See other settings of this text.
Researcher for this page: Victoria Brago4. Mad song  [sung text not yet checked]
The wild winds weep And the night is a-cold; Come hither, Sleep, And my griefs [infold]1: But lo! the morning peeps Over the eastern steeps, And the rustling birds of dawn The earth do scorn. Lo! to the vault Of paved heaven, With sorrow fraught My notes are driven: They strike the ear of night, Make weep the eyes of day; They make mad the roaring winds, And with tempests play. Like a fiend in a cloud, With howling woe, After night I do crowd, And with night will go; I turn my back to the east, From whence comforts have increas'd; For light doth seize my brain With frantic pain.
Authorship:
- by William Blake (1757 - 1827), "Mad song"
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "Cançó esbojarrada", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Note: said to have been written by Blake at the age of fourteen.
First published in Poetical Sketches, 1783
1 first published as "unfold" (Mitchell uses "unfold"); later changed to "infold"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]