The fountains serenade the flowers, Upon their silver lute— And, nestled in their leafy bowers, The forest-birds are mute: The bright and glittering hosts above Unbar their golden gates, While Nature holds her court of love, And for her client waits. Then, lady, wake—in beauty rise! 'Tis now the promised hour, When torches kindle in the skies To light thee to thy bower. The day we dedicate to care— To love the witching night; For all that's beautiful and fair In hours like these unite. E'en thus the sweets to flowerets given— The moonlight on the tree— And all the bliss of earth and heaven— Are mingled, love, in thee. Then, lady, wake—in beauty rise! 'Tis now the promised hour, When torches kindle in the skies To light thee to thy bower!
- by George Pope Morris (1802 - 1864) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by Andrew Schneider (b. 1991), "Serenade", 2018, copyright © 2018. [satb chorus and piano] [ sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Andrew Schneider [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2018-06-29
Line count: 24
Word count: 132