'Tis twilight's holy hour (J. Clippingdale): Difference between revisions

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==Original text and translations==
==Original text and translations==
{{NoText}}
{{Text|English|
'Tis twilight's holy hour!
The sun is sinking to a sweet repose;
In beauty each fair flower,
Its petals softly, sweetly doth close.
DIm shadows slowly creep
O'er hill and dale, and ancient mountain wood;
down many a sloping steep,
Where moss-grown nooks for centuries have stood.
'' 'Tis twilight's holy hour!
''The sun is sinking to a sweet repose.
 
The stream whose crystal breast
In noon-day sun with crimson blushes burned
Now peacefully doth rest,
Soft shadows veiling its fair face upturned.
Sweet harmony doth reign;
While softly, richly mellow fades the light,
The day-beam's sweet refrain,
This silent hour which heralds in the night.
'' 'Tis twilight's holy hour!
''The sun is sinking to a sweet repose.
}}


[[Category:Sheet music]]
[[Category:Sheet music]]
[[Category:Romantic music]]
[[Category:Romantic music]]

Revision as of 11:44, 29 May 2020

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  • (Posted 2020-05-29)  CPDL #58907:         
Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2020-05-29).   Score information: A4, 8 pages, 118 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: MusicXML source file(s) in compressed .mxl format.

General Information

Title: Tis twilight's holy hour
Composer: J. Clippingdale
Lyricist: Wellington Guernsey

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB

Genre: SecularPartsong

Language: English
Instruments: Piano

First published: 1884 in Novello's Part-Song Book (2nd series), Vol. 17, no. 475

Description:

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

'Tis twilight's holy hour!
The sun is sinking to a sweet repose;
In beauty each fair flower,
Its petals softly, sweetly doth close.
DIm shadows slowly creep
O'er hill and dale, and ancient mountain wood;
down many a sloping steep,
Where moss-grown nooks for centuries have stood.
'Tis twilight's holy hour!
The sun is sinking to a sweet repose.

The stream whose crystal breast
In noon-day sun with crimson blushes burned
Now peacefully doth rest,
Soft shadows veiling its fair face upturned.
Sweet harmony doth reign;
While softly, richly mellow fades the light,
The day-beam's sweet refrain,
This silent hour which heralds in the night.
'Tis twilight's holy hour!
The sun is sinking to a sweet repose.