The lark (John Liptrot Hatton): Difference between revisions
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==Original text and translations== | ==Original text and translations== | ||
{{ | {{Text|English| | ||
{{Vs|1}} The grass is wet with shining dews, | |||
Their silver bells hang on each tree; | |||
While opening flowers and bursting bud | |||
Breathe incense forth unceasingly; | |||
The mavis pipes in greenwood shade, | |||
The throstle glads the spreading thorn, | |||
And merrily the blithesome lark | |||
Salutes the rosy face of morn. | |||
'Tis early prime, | |||
And hark, hark, hark, | |||
His merry chime, | |||
Chirrups the lark, | |||
Chirrup, chirrup, he heralds in | |||
The jolly sun with matin hymn. | |||
{{Vs|2}} Come, come, O come, and may-dews shake, | |||
In pail-fuls from each drooping bough; | |||
They give fresh lustre to the bloom | |||
That breaks upon thy young cheek now. | |||
O'er hill and dale, o'er waste and wood, | |||
Aurora's smiles are streaming free; | |||
With earth it is brave holiday, | |||
In heaven it looks high jubilee: | |||
And it is right, | |||
For mark, mark, mark, | |||
How, bathed in light, | |||
Chirrups the lark, | |||
Chirrup, chirrup, he upward flies, | |||
Like holy thoughts to cloudless skies. | |||
}} | |||
{{DEFAULTSORT:{{WorkSorter}}}} | {{DEFAULTSORT:{{WorkSorter}}}} | ||
[[Category:Sheet music]] | [[Category:Sheet music]] | ||
[[Category:Romantic music]] | [[Category:Romantic music]] |
Revision as of 16:15, 7 February 2020
Music files
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Midi | |
Mp3 | |
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- Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2020-02-07). Score information: A4, 6 pages, 97 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: MusicXML source file(s) in compressed .mxl format.
General Information
Title: The lark
Composer: John Liptrot Hatton
Lyricist: William Motherwell
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular, Partsong
Language: English
Instruments: Piano
First published: 1875 in Novello's Part-Song Book (2nd series), Vol. 13, no. 369
Description:
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
1 The grass is wet with shining dews,
Their silver bells hang on each tree;
While opening flowers and bursting bud
Breathe incense forth unceasingly;
The mavis pipes in greenwood shade,
The throstle glads the spreading thorn,
And merrily the blithesome lark
Salutes the rosy face of morn.
'Tis early prime,
And hark, hark, hark,
His merry chime,
Chirrups the lark,
Chirrup, chirrup, he heralds in
The jolly sun with matin hymn.
2 Come, come, O come, and may-dews shake,
In pail-fuls from each drooping bough;
They give fresh lustre to the bloom
That breaks upon thy young cheek now.
O'er hill and dale, o'er waste and wood,
Aurora's smiles are streaming free;
With earth it is brave holiday,
In heaven it looks high jubilee:
And it is right,
For mark, mark, mark,
How, bathed in light,
Chirrups the lark,
Chirrup, chirrup, he upward flies,
Like holy thoughts to cloudless skies.