Tears of Gold (2000)
III: The Ecchoing Green (2:04)
Anita Krause, mezzo-soprano; Thomas Wiebe, cello; Ian Robertson, harpsichord
William Blake’s Songs of Innocence of 1789 have been set to music by several composers, including Ralph Vaughan Williams and William Bolcom. Here, I have selected five of these poems for a “Baroque” setting, suitable for either mezzo-soprano or countertenor. This performance was recorded at the University of Western Ontario on November 25, 2011.
© Colin Eatock 2000
Text
The sun does arise,
And make happy the skies;
The merry bells ring
To welcome the Spring;
The skylark and the thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around
To the bells’ chearful sound,
While our sports shall be seen
On the Ecchoing Green.
Old John with white hair,
Does laugh away care,
Sitting under the oak,
Among the old folk.
They laugh at our play,
And soon they all say:
“Such were the joys,
When we all, girls and boys,
In our youth time were seen
On the Ecchoing Green.”
Till the little ones weary,
No more can be merry;
The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end.
Round the laps of their mothers
Many sisters and brothers,
Like birds in their nest,
Are ready for rest,
And sport no more seen
On the darkening Green.
Anita Krause, mezzo-soprano; Thomas Wiebe, cello; Ian Robertson, harpsichord
William Blake’s Songs of Innocence of 1789 have been set to music by several composers, including Ralph Vaughan Williams and William Bolcom. Here, I have selected five of these poems for a “Baroque” setting, suitable for either mezzo-soprano or countertenor. This performance was recorded at the University of Western Ontario on November 25, 2011.
© Colin Eatock 2000
Text
The sun does arise,
And make happy the skies;
The merry bells ring
To welcome the Spring;
The skylark and the thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around
To the bells’ chearful sound,
While our sports shall be seen
On the Ecchoing Green.
Old John with white hair,
Does laugh away care,
Sitting under the oak,
Among the old folk.
They laugh at our play,
And soon they all say:
“Such were the joys,
When we all, girls and boys,
In our youth time were seen
On the Ecchoing Green.”
Till the little ones weary,
No more can be merry;
The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end.
Round the laps of their mothers
Many sisters and brothers,
Like birds in their nest,
Are ready for rest,
And sport no more seen
On the darkening Green.
