English Romantic Songs (2009)
Voice and Piano 5 min. total
I. Music, when soft voices die. 2 min.
For Ann Moss, Soprano
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 – 1822)
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Life within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
are heaped, heaped for the beloved’s bed;
and so thy thoughts, when thou art gone.
Love itself shall slumber on.
II. Asleep! O sleep a little while, white pearl! 3 min.
First Prize, 2009 San Francisco Conservatory Artsong Competition
John Keats (1795 – 1821)
Asleep! O sleep a little while, white pearl!
And let me kneel, and let me pray to thee,
And let me call Heaven’s blessing on thine eyes,
And let me breathe into the happy air
That doth enfold and touch thee all about,
Vows of my slavery, my giving up,
My sudden adoration, my great love!
When You Are Old (2007)
Baritone and Piano 2 ½ min.
William Butler Yeats (1865 – 1939)
When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
Four Dickinson Songs (2007)
Soprano and Piano 11 min. total
I. I’m nobody! Who are you? 2 min.
Emily Dickinson (1830 – 1886)
I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell!
They’d advertise — you know!
How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell one’s name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
II. Fame is a Bee. 2 min.
Fame is a bee.
It has a song—
It has a sting—
Ah, too, it has a wing.
Bee! I’m expecting you!
III. Bee! I’m Expecting you! 3 min.
Bee! I’m expecting you!
Was saying Yesterday
To Somebody you know
That you were due—
The Frogs got Home last Week—
Are settled, and at work—
Birds, mostly back—
The Clover warm and thick—
You’ll get my Letter by
The seventeenth; Reply
Or better, be with me—
IV. The cricket sang. 4 min.
The Cricket sang,
And set the sun,
And workmen finished, one by one,
Their seam the day upon.
The low grass loaded with the dew,
The twilight stood as strangers do
With hat in hand, polite and new,
To stay as if, or go.
A vastness, as a neighbor, came,—
A wisdom without face or name,
A peace, as hemispheres at home,—
And so the night became.