Difference between revisions of "The Gift (Huub de Lange)"

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*{{CPDLno|12275}} [{{website|delange}}/Three_Stuart_Songs_2_THE_GIFT_(Huub_de_Lange).pdf {{extpdf}}] [{{website|delange}}/Three_Stuart_Songs_2_THE_GIFT_(Huub_de_Lange).mp3 {{extmp3}}]
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*{{CPDLno|12275}} [{{website|delange}}/Four_Stuart_Songs_2_THE_GIFT_(Huub_de_Lange).pdf {{extpdf}}] [{{website|delange}}/Four_Stuart_Songs_2_THE_GIFT_(Huub_de_Lange).mp3 {{extmp3}}]
{{Editor|Huub de Lange|2006-08-11}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|5|92}}{{Copy|Personal}}
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{{Editor|Huub de Lange|2006-08-11}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|5}}{{Copy|Personal}}
 
:'''Edition notes:'''
 
:'''Edition notes:'''
  
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'''Title:''' ''The Gift''<br>
 
'''Title:''' ''The Gift''<br>
 
{{Composer|Huub de Lange}}
 
{{Composer|Huub de Lange}}
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{{Lyricist|Alice.V. Stuart}}
  
 
{{Voicing|4|SATB}}<br>
 
{{Voicing|4|SATB}}<br>
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'''Published:''' 2004
 
'''Published:''' 2004
  
'''Description:''' #2 from ''[[Three Stuart Songs (Huub de Lange)|Three Stuart Songs]]''
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'''Description:''' #2 from ''[[Four Stuart Songs (Huub de Lange)|Four Stuart Songs]]''
  
 
'''External websites:'''  
 
'''External websites:'''  

Revision as of 10:57, 4 October 2012

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  • CPDL #12275:  Icon_pdf_globe.gif Icon_mp3_globe.gif
Editor: Huub de Lange (submitted 2006-08-11).   Score information: A4, 5 pages   Copyright: Personal
Edition notes:

General Information

Title: The Gift
Composer: Huub de Lange
Lyricist: Alice.V. Stuartcreate page

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

Language: English
Instruments: a cappella
Published: 2004

Description: #2 from Four Stuart Songs

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

You sent me flowers when I lay ill.
Their tender beauty seemed to fill
My room with all earth’s loveliness.
I thought my life rich heretofore
When busy hand and teeming brain
Gave me no pause to stay and pore
Over God’s wonders wrought so plain.
In flower and leave on every hand.
Ah me! I did not understand
How poor in very truth I was
until my weakness gave me pause,
Till I lay idle, lonely, ill,
And knew myself rich, rich indeed,
Rich beyond all desert or meed,
Showered by the infinite largesse
Of sweet and subtle loveliness
Revealed me hour by hour in these
Half-dozen delicate irises.