Oh rest in the Lord: set by Felix Mendelssohn
Oh rest in the Lord, wait patiently for Him, and He shall give thee thy heart’s desires: Commit thy way unto Him, and trust in Him; and fret not thyself because of evil doers. Oh rest in the Lord, wait patiently for Him, and He shall give thee thy heart’s desires. Oh rest in the Lord, and wait, wait patiently for Him.
Linden Lea: words of William Barnes, music of Ralph Vaughan Williams
Within the woodlands, flow’ry gladed,
By the oak trees’ mossy moot,
The shining grass blades, timber-shaded,
Now do quiver underfoot;
And birds do whistle overhead,
And water’s bubbling in its bed;
And there, for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
When leaves, that lately were a-springing,
Now do fade within the copse,
And painted birds do hush their singing,
Up upon the timber tops;
And brown-leaved fruits a-turning red,
In cloudless sunshine overhead,
With fruit for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
Let other folk make money faster
In the air of dark-roomed towns;
I don’t dread a peevish master,
Though no man may heed my frowns.
I be free to go abroad,
Or take again my homeward road
To where, for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening: words by Robert Frost, music by Ned Rorem
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farm-house near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sounds the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Rain in Spring: words by Paul Goodman, music by Ned Rorem
There fell a beautiful clear rain
With no admixture of fog or snow
And this was and no other thing
The very sign of the start of spring.
Not the longing for a lover,
Nor the sentiment of starting over
But this clear and refreshing rain,
Falling without haste or strain.
Saphische Ode: words by Hans Schmidt, music by Johannes Brahms
Rosen brach ich nachts mir am dunklen Hage;
Süßer hauchten Duft sie als je am Tage;
Doch verstreuten reich die bewegten Äste
Tau, der mich näßte.
Auch der Küsse Duft mich wie nie berückte,
Die ich nachts vom Strauch deiner Lippen pflückte:
Doch auch dir, bewegt im Gemüt gleich jenen,
Tauten die Tränen.
Roses I plucked at night from the dark hedge;
They breathed sweeter fragrance than ever during the day;
But the moving branches abundantly shed
The dew that showered me.
Also your kisses’ fragrance enticed me as never before,
As at night I plucked the flower of your lips:
But you too, moved in spirit as they were,
Shed a dew of tears.
Wie Melodien zieht es mir/It flows like a melody: words of Klaus Groth, music of Brahms
Wie Melodien zieht es
Mir leise durch den Sinn,
Wie Frühlingsblumen blüht es,
Und schwebt wie Duft dahin.
Doch kommt das Wort und faßt es
Und führt es vor das Aug’,
Wie Nebelgrau erblaßt es
Und schwindet wie ein Hauch.
Und dennoch ruht im Reime
Verborgen wohl ein Duft,
Den mild aus stillem Keime
Ein feuchtes Auge ruft.
It flows like a melody,
Gently through my mind;
It blossoms like spring flowers
And wafts away like fragrance.
But when it is captured in words,
And placed before my eyes,
It turns pale like a gray mist
And disappears like a breath.
And yet, remaining in rhymes
There hides still a fragrance,
Which mildly from the quiet bud
A moist eye calls forth.
Widmung/Dedication: words by Wolfgang Müller von Königswinter, music by Robert Franz
O danke nicht für diese Lieder,
Mir ziemt es dankbar dir zu sein;
Du gabst sie mir, ich gebe wieder,
Was jetzt und einst und ewig dein.
Dein sind sie alle ja gewesen;
Aus deiner lieben Augen Licht
Hab ich sie treulich abgelesen:
Kennst du die eignen Lieder nicht?
O do not thank me for these songs,
It is seemly for me to be thankful to you;
You give them to me, I give back,
What is now and once and ever yours.
Yours have they all been;
in your dear eyes light
Have I truly read them:
Do you not know your own songs?
Le Charme/The Charm: words by Armand Silvestre, words of Ernest Chausson
Quand ton sourire me surprit,
Je sentis frémir tout mon être,
Mais ce qui domptait nous esprit,
Je ne pus d’abord le connaître.
Quand ton regard tomba sur moi,
Je sentis mon âme se fondre,
Mais ce que serait cet émoi,
Je ne pus d’abord en répondre.
Ce qui me vainquit à jamais,
Ce fut un plus douloureux charme;
Et je n’ai su que je t’aimais,
Qu’en voyant ta première larme.
When your smile surprised me,
I felt a shudder through my whole being,
But what tamed my spirit,
At first I did not recognize it.
When your glance fell on me,
I felt my soul melt,
But what that emotion was,
At first I could not answer it.
What conquered me forever,
That was a sadder charm,
And I did not know that I loved you,
Until I saw your first tear.
Lydia: words by Charles Leconte de Lisle, music by Gabriel Fauré
Lydia sur tes roses joues
Et sur ton col frais et si blanc,
Roule étincelant,
L’or fluide que tu dénoues;
Le jour qui luit est le meilleur,
Oublions l’éternelle tombe.
Laisse tes baisers de colombe
Chanter sur ta levre en fleur.
Un lys caché répand sans cesse
Une odeur divine en ton sein;
Les délices comme un essaim
Sortent de toi, jeune déesse.
Je t’aime et meurs, ô mes amours.
Mon âme en baisers m’est ravie!
O Lydia, rends-moi la vie,
Que je puisse mourir toujours!
Lydia, on your rosy cheeks,
And on your neck, so fresh and white,
Flow sparklingly
The fluid golden tresses which you loosen.
This shining day is the best of all;
Let us forget the eternal grave,
Let your kisses, your dove-like kisses,
Sing on your blossoming lips.
A hidden lily spreads unceasingly
A divine fragrance on your breast;
Numberless delights
Emanate from you, young goddess,
I love you and die, oh my love;
Kisses have carried away my soul!
Oh Lydia, give me back life,
That I may die, die forever!
Amarilli: words of Biovanni Guarini, music of Giulio Caccini
Amarilli, mia bella,
Non credi, o del mio cor dolce desio,
D’esser tu l’amor mio?
Credilo pur: e se timor t’assale,
Dubitar non ti vale.
Aprimi il petto e vedrai scritto in core:
Amarilli, Amarilli, Amarailli
è il mio amore.
Amaryllis, my lovely one,
Don’t you believe, of my heart’s sweet desire,
That you are my love?
Believe it thus: and if fear assails you,
Don’t doubt its truth.
Open my breast and see written on my heart:
Amarylli, Amarylli, Amarylli,
Is my beloved.
