Silently she's combing,
Combing her long hair,
Silently and graciously,
With many a pretty air.
The sun is in the willow leaves
And on the dappled grass,
And still she's combing her long hair
Before the looking-glass.
I pray you, cease to comb out,
Comb out your long hair,
For I have heard of witchery
Under a pretty air,
That makes as one thing to the lover
Staying and going hence,
All fair, with many a pretty air
And many a negligence.
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by David Arditti (b. 1964), no title, op. 20 no. 15 (1998) [ tenor and string quartet ], from Chamber Music, no. 15 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Jeffrey Cohen (b. 1957), "Silently she's combing" [ soprano and cello ] [sung text not yet checked]
- by Ross Lee Finney (1906 - 1997), "Silently she's combing", 1952, published 1985, first performed 1975 [ voice and piano ], from Chamber Music, no. 24, Henmar Press [sung text not yet checked]
- by Tibor Serly (1901 - 1978), "Silently she's combing", 1927 [ mezzo-soprano and chamber orchestra ], from Four Songs from "Chamber Music" [sung text not yet checked]
- by Rick Sowash (b. 1950), "Silently she's combing,", 1998 [ mezzo-soprano, viola, clarinet, flute, and piano ], from Along the River, no. 4 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by (Thomas) Gerard Victory (1921 - 1995), "Silently she's combing", 1954 [ tenor, SATB chorus, and instrumental ensemble ], from Five Songs by James Joyce [sung text not yet checked]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 82
En silence elle peigne,
elle peigne ses longs cheveux,
En silence et gracieusement,
Avec maints jolis airs.
Le soleil est dans les feuilles du saule
Et sur l'herbe tachetée,
Et toujours elle peigne ses longs cheveux
Devant le miroir.
Je t'en prie, arrête de te peigner,
De peigner tes longs cheveux,
Car j'ai entendu parler d'une sorcellerie
Sous un air charmant,
Qui rend semblable à l'amant
Rester et s'en aller,
Toute belle, avec maint air charmant
Et mainte négligence.
