My lady
Language: English
Hide your heads, ye flow'rs of spring, Stoop, proud lily, on your stem, Birds, cease your songs, ye cannot sing, Fair nature, yield your diadem. For my lady comes, my lady comes. Poor flow'rs, why seek to rival her! Proud lily, never try to rise. Sweet birds, your songs may no more stir The zephyrs of the summer skies When my lady's here, my lady's here. She's fairer than the sweetest flow'r, She's purer than the lily fair. There is no bird in bush or bower That can with her sweet voice compare. Hush! my lady sings, my lady sings! Fair flow'rs forgive me, bloom again! Pale lily, I your pardon crave. Birds sing a dirge in doleful strain. Weep flow'rs and birds upon her grave. For my lady's dead, for my lady's dead.
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 Mary Grant Carmichael (1851 - 1935), "My lady", published 1892 [voice and piano], London & Leipzig: Pitt & Hatzfeld Ltd.; Boston: H.B. Stevens Co. [text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2013-03-09
Line count: 20
Word count: 134