Remembrances (Scott Villard)

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  • (Posted 2016-07-15)   CPDL #40367:  Icon_pdf_globe.gif Icon_mp3_globe.gif
Editor: Scott Villard (submitted 2016-07-16).   Score information: Letter, 10 pages, 651 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes:

General Information

Title: Remembrances
Composer: Scott Villard
Lyricist: H.W. Longfellow, W. Whitman, P.B. Shelleycreate page

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: TTBB
Genre: SecularPartsong

Language: English
Instruments: A cappella

First published: 1997

Description: Example recording by Andreas Herrmann.

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

1. Delia (H.W. Longfellow)
Sweet as the tender fragrance that survives,
When martyred flowers breathe out their little lives,
Sweet as a song that once consoled our pain,
But never will be sung to us again,
Is thy remembrance. Now the hour of rest
Hath come to thee. Sleep, darling; it is best.

2. Changed (H.W. Longfellow)
From the outskirts of the town
Where of old the mile-stone stood,
Now a stranger, looking down
I behold the shadowy crown
Of the dark and haunted wood.

Is it changed, or am I changed?
Ah! the oaks are fresh and green,
But the friends with whom I ranged
Through their thickets are estranged
By the years that intervene.

Bright as ever flows the sea,
Bright as ever shines the sun,
But alas! they seem to me
Not the sun that used to be,
Not the tides that used to run.

3. Memories (W. Whitman)
How sweet the silent backward tracings!
The wanderings as in dreams—the meditation of old times
resumed—their loves, joys, persons, voyages.

4. Time Long Past (P.B. Shelley)
Like the ghost of a dear friend dead
Is Time long past.
A tone which is now forever fled,
A hope which is now forever past,
A love so sweet it could not last,
Was Time long past.

There were sweet dreams in the night
Of Time long past:
And, was it sadness or delight,
Each day a shadow onward cast
Which made us wish it yet might last—
That Time long past.

There is regret, almost remorse,
For Time long past.
'Tis like a child's belovèd corse
A father watches, till at last
Beauty is like remembrance, cast
From Time long past.