The daylight is dying (Huub de Lange): Difference between revisions

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==Music files==
==Music files==
{{Legend}}
{{#Legend:}}
 
*{{CPDLno|17419}} [{{website|delange}}/Four_Romantic_Poems_4_THE_DAYLIGHT_IS_DYING_(Huub_de_Lange).pdf {{extpdf}}] [{{website|delange}}/Four_Romantic_Poems_4_THE_DAYLIGHT_IS_DYING_(Huub_de_Lange).mp3 {{extmp3}}]
*{{CPDLno|17419:''' [{{website|delange}}/4_Romantic_Poems_4_THE_DAYLIGHT_IS_DYING_(Huub_de_Lange).pdf {{extpdf}}] [{{website|delange}}/4_Romantic_Poems_4_THE_DAYLIGHT_IS_DYING_(Huub_de_Lange).mp3 {{extmp3}}]
{{Editor|Huub de Lange|2008-07-03}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|18|422}}{{Copy|Personal}}
{{Editor|Huub de Lange|2008-07-03}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|18|422}}{{Copy|Personal}}
:'''Edition notes:''' Includes piano-choral score and separate piano accompaniment score.
:'''Edition notes:''' Includes piano-choral score and separate piano accompaniment score.
Line 14: Line 13:
{{Genre|Secular|Partsongs}}
{{Genre|Secular|Partsongs}}
{{Language|English}}
{{Language|English}}
'''Instruments:''' {{PnoAcc}}<br>
{{Instruments|Piano}}
'''Published:''' 2008
{{Published|2008}}


'''Description:''' #4 from ''[[4 Romantic Poems (Huub de Lange)|4 Romantic Poems]]'', recent settings of poems by Emily Dickinson, William Blake, Alice Stuart and A.B. Banjo Paterson
'''Description:''' #4 from ''[[Four Romantic Poems (Huub de Lange)|Four Romantic Poems]]'', recent settings of poems by Emily Dickinson, William Blake, Alice Stuart and A.B. Banjo Paterson


'''External websites:'''
'''External websites:'''


==Original text and translations==
==Original text and translations==
{{Text|English}}
{{Text|English|
The daylight is dying
Away in the west,
The wild birds are flying
in silence to rest;
In leafage and frondage
Where shadows are deep,
They pass to its bondage--
The kingdom of sleep
And watched in their sleeping
By stars in the height,
They rest in your keeping,
O wonderful night.
When night doth her glories
Of starshine unfold,
'Tis then that the stories
Of bush-land are told.
 
Unnumbered I told them
In memories bright,
But who could unfold them,
Or read them aright?
Beyond all denials
The stars in their glories,
The breeze in the myalls,
Are part of these stories.
 
The waving of grasses,
The song of the river
That sings as it passes
For ever and ever,
The hobble-chains' rattle,
The calling of birds,
The lowing of cattle
Must blend with the words.
 
Without these, indeed you
Would find it ere long,
As though I should read you
The words of a song
That lamely would linger
When lacking the rune,
The voice of a singer,
The lilt of the tune.


The daylight is dying<br>
But as one halk-bearing  
Away in the west,<br>
An old-time refrain,  
The wild birds are flying<br>
With memory clearing,  
in silence to rest;<br>
Recalls it again,  
In leafage and frondage<br>
These tales roughly wrought of
Where shadows are deep,<br>
The Bush and its ways,  
They pass to its bondage--<br>
May call back a thought of  
The kingdom of sleep<br>
The wandering days;  
And watched in their sleeping<br>
And, blending with each  
By stars in the height,<br>
In the memories that throng
They rest in your keeping,<br>
There haply shall reach  
O wonderful night.<br>
You some echo of song.}}
When night doth her glories<br>
Of starshine unfold,<br>
'Tis then that the stories<br>
Of bush-land are told.<br>
<br>
Unnumbered I told them<br>
In memories bright,<br>
But who could unfold them,<br>
Or read them aright?<br>
Beyond all denials<br>
The stars in their glories,<br>
The breeze in the myalls,<br>
Are part of these stories.<br>
<br>
The waving of grasses,<br>
The song of the river<br>
That sings as it passes<br>
For ever and ever,<br>
The hobble-chains' rattle,<br>
The calling of birds,<br>
The lowing of cattle<br>
Must blend with the words.<br>
<br>
Without these, indeed you<br>
Would find it ere long,<br>
As though I should read you<br>
The words of a song<br>
That lamely would linger<br>
When lacking the rune,<br>
The voice of a singer,<br>
The lilt of the tune.<br>
<br>
But as one halk-bearing<br>
An old-time refrain,<br>
With memory clearing,<br>
Recalls it again,<br>
These tales roughly wrought of<br>
The Bush and its ways,<br>
May call back a thought of<br>
The wandering days;<br>
And, blending with each<br>
In the memories that throng<br>
There haply shall reach<br>
You some echo of song.<br>


{{DEFAULTSORT:Daylight is dying, The (Huub de Lange)}}
{{DEFAULTSORT:Daylight is dying, The (Huub de Lange)}}
[[Category:Sheet music]]
[[Category:Sheet music]]
[[Category:Modern music]]
[[Category:Modern music]]

Revision as of 06:41, 5 March 2017

Music files

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Editor: Huub de Lange (submitted 2008-07-03).   Score information: A4, 18 pages, 422 kB   Copyright: Personal
Edition notes: Includes piano-choral score and separate piano accompaniment score.

General Information

Title: The daylight is dying
Composer: Huub de Lange
Lyricist: A.B. Banjo Patersoncreate page

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB

Genre: SecularPartsong

Language: English
Instruments: Piano

{{Published}} is obsolete (code commented out), replaced with {{Pub}} for works and {{PubDatePlace}} for publications.

Description: #4 from Four Romantic Poems, recent settings of poems by Emily Dickinson, William Blake, Alice Stuart and A.B. Banjo Paterson

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

The daylight is dying
Away in the west,
The wild birds are flying
in silence to rest;
In leafage and frondage
Where shadows are deep,
They pass to its bondage--
The kingdom of sleep
And watched in their sleeping
By stars in the height,
They rest in your keeping,
O wonderful night.
When night doth her glories
Of starshine unfold,
'Tis then that the stories
Of bush-land are told.

Unnumbered I told them
In memories bright,
But who could unfold them,
Or read them aright?
Beyond all denials
The stars in their glories,
The breeze in the myalls,
Are part of these stories.

The waving of grasses,
The song of the river
That sings as it passes
For ever and ever,
The hobble-chains' rattle,
The calling of birds,
The lowing of cattle
Must blend with the words.

Without these, indeed you
Would find it ere long,
As though I should read you
The words of a song
That lamely would linger
When lacking the rune,
The voice of a singer,
The lilt of the tune.

But as one halk-bearing
An old-time refrain,
With memory clearing,
Recalls it again,
These tales roughly wrought of
The Bush and its ways,
May call back a thought of
The wandering days;
And, blending with each
In the memories that throng
There haply shall reach
You some echo of song.