Angel of the night (Huub de Lange): Difference between revisions
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==Original text and translations== | ==Original text and translations== | ||
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I dream'd there would be Spring no more,<br> | |||
That Nature's ancient power was lost:<br> | |||
The streets were black with smoke and frost,<br> | |||
They chatter'd trifles at the door:<br> | |||
<br> | |||
I wander'd from the noisy town,<br> | |||
I found a wood with thorny boughs:<br> | |||
I took the thorns to bind my brows,<br> | |||
I wore them like a civic crown:<br> | |||
<br> | |||
I met with scoffs, I met with scorns<br> | |||
From youth and babe and hoary hairs:<br> | |||
They call'd me in the public squares<br> | |||
The fool that wears a crown of thorns:<br> | |||
<br> | |||
They call'd me fool, they call'd me child:<br> | |||
I found an Angel of the night;<br> | |||
The voice was low, the look was bright:<br> | |||
He look'd upon my crown and smiled:<br> | |||
<br> | |||
He reach'd the glory of a hand,<br> | |||
That seem'd to touch it into leaf:<br> | |||
The voice was not the voice of grief,<br> | |||
The words were hard to understand.<br> | |||
<br> | |||
[[Category:Sheet music]] | [[Category:Sheet music]] |
Revision as of 11:54, 30 January 2007
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CPDL #13478:
- Editor: Huub de Lange (added 2007-01-23). Score information: A4, 13 pages, 241 kbytes Copyright: Personal
- Edition notes:
General Information
Title: Angel of the Night
Composer: Huub de Lange
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular
Language: English
Instrumentation: Chamber orchestra
Published: 2007
Description: words by Alfred Tennyson: poem 69 from "In Memoriam A.H.H."
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
I dream'd there would be Spring no more,
That Nature's ancient power was lost:
The streets were black with smoke and frost,
They chatter'd trifles at the door:
I wander'd from the noisy town,
I found a wood with thorny boughs:
I took the thorns to bind my brows,
I wore them like a civic crown:
I met with scoffs, I met with scorns
From youth and babe and hoary hairs:
They call'd me in the public squares
The fool that wears a crown of thorns:
They call'd me fool, they call'd me child:
I found an Angel of the night;
The voice was low, the look was bright:
He look'd upon my crown and smiled:
He reach'd the glory of a hand,
That seem'd to touch it into leaf:
The voice was not the voice of grief,
The words were hard to understand.