The Garden of Proserpine (Huub de Lange): Difference between revisions

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Here, where the world is quiet;  
Here, where the world is quiet;  
  Here, where all trouble seems  
        Here, where all trouble seems  
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot  
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot  
  In doubtful dreams of dreams;  
        In doubtful dreams of dreams;  
I watch the green field growing  
I watch the green field growing  
For reaping folk and sowing,  
For reaping folk and sowing,  
For harvest-time and mowing,  
For harvest-time and mowing,  
  A sleepy world of streams.  
        A sleepy world of streams.  


I am tired of tears and laughter,  
I am tired of tears and laughter,  
  And men that laugh and weep;  
        And men that laugh and weep;  
Of what may come hereafter  
Of what may come hereafter  
  For men that sow to reap:  
        For men that sow to reap:  
I am weary of days and hours,  
I am weary of days and hours,  
Blown buds of barren flowers,  
Blown buds of barren flowers,  
Desires and dreams and powers  
Desires and dreams and powers  
  And everything but sleep.  
        And everything but sleep.  


Here life has death for neighbour,  
Here life has death for neighbour,  
  And far from eye or ear  
        And far from eye or ear  
Wan waves and wet winds labour,  
Wan waves and wet winds labour,  
  Weak ships and spirits steer;  
        Weak ships and spirits steer;  
They drive adrift, and whither  
They drive adrift, and whither  
They wot not who make thither;  
They wot not who make thither;  
But no such winds blow hither,  
But no such winds blow hither,  
  And no such things grow here.  
        And no such things grow here.  


No growth of moor or coppice,  
No growth of moor or coppice,  
  No heather-flower or vine,  
        No heather-flower or vine,  
But bloomless buds of poppies,  
But bloomless buds of poppies,  
  Green grapes of Proserpine,  
        Green grapes of Proserpine,  
Pale beds of blowing rushes  
Pale beds of blowing rushes  
Where no leaf blooms or blushes  
Where no leaf blooms or blushes  
Save this whereout she crushes  
Save this whereout she crushes  
  For dead men deadly wine.  
        For dead men deadly wine.  


''(The original poems consists of twelve strophes. In this setting the first four have been used.)''  
''(The original poems consists of twelve strophes. In this setting the first four have been used.)''  

Revision as of 01:08, 8 February 2012

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Editor: Huub de Lange (submitted 2010-10-15).   Score information: A4, 19 pages, 437 kB   Copyright: PersonalThis template name is reserved for future development (something in line with what was originally proposed by Pml).

Full score including piano part.

General Information

Title: The Garden of Proserpine
Composer: Huub de Lange
Lyricist: Algeron Charles Swinburnecreate page

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB

Genre: SecularPartsong

Language: English
Instruments: Piano
Published: 2010

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text


Here, where the world is quiet;
         Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
         In doubtful dreams of dreams;
I watch the green field growing
For reaping folk and sowing,
For harvest-time and mowing,
         A sleepy world of streams.

I am tired of tears and laughter,
         And men that laugh and weep;
Of what may come hereafter
         For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
         And everything but sleep.

Here life has death for neighbour,
         And far from eye or ear
Wan waves and wet winds labour,
         Weak ships and spirits steer;
They drive adrift, and whither
They wot not who make thither;
But no such winds blow hither,
         And no such things grow here.

No growth of moor or coppice,
         No heather-flower or vine,
But bloomless buds of poppies,
         Green grapes of Proserpine,
Pale beds of blowing rushes
Where no leaf blooms or blushes
Save this whereout she crushes
         For dead men deadly wine.

(The original poems consists of twelve strophes. In this setting the first four have been used.)