Song and Verse
Inaugurated in the fall of 2020, the Song and Verse recital series provides a platform for undergraduate singers at NEC to experience the unique and invigorating process of song preparation and performance—creating interpretations, building performance skills, and forging intellectual and musical connections with a wide literature.
Working closely with Vocal Arts faculty members, students will engage with rich traditions of song composition from around the globe.
Committed to diversity, our programs will feature both established and emerging composers and poets from across many cultures and traditions. This series creates new opportunities for students to participate with the singular type of storytelling unique to song.
This performer-produced event will be viewable in-person for internal NEC audiences. It will also be livestreamed. Please note that performer-produced events may sometimes be private events that require a password for viewing access.
Gerald Finzi | Oh Fair to See
I say, "I'll seek her"
Oh fair to see
As I lay in the early sun
Only the wanderer
To Joy
Harvest
Since we lovedTexts
I say, “I’ll seek her”
I say, "I'll seek her side
Ere hindrance interposes;"
But eve in midnight closes,
And here I still abide.
When darkness wears I see
Her sad eyes in a vision;
They ask, "What indecision
Detains you, Love, from me? -
"The creaking hinge is oiled,
I have unbarred the backway,
But you tread not the trackway
And shall the thing be spoiled?
"Far cockcrows echo shrill,
The shadows are abating,
And I am waiting, waiting;
But O, you tarry still.”
Thomas Hardy (1840-1928)
Oh, fair to see
Oh, fair to see
Bloom-laden cherry tree,
Arrayed in sunny white;
An April day's delight,
Oh, fair to see!
Oh, fair to see
Fruit-laden cherry tree,
With balls of shining red
Decking a leafy head,
Oh, fair to see!
Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830-1894)
As I lay in the early sun
As I lay in the early sun,
Stretched in the grass, I thought upon
My true love, my dear love,
Who has my heart forever
Who is my happiness when we meet,
My sorrow when we sever.
She is all fire when I do burn,
Gentle when I moody turn,
Brave when I am sad and heavy
And all laughter when I am merry.
And so I lay and dreamed and dreamed,
And so the day wheeled on,
While all the birds with thoughts like mine
Were singing to the sun.
Edward Shanks (1892-1953)
Only the wanderer
Only the wanderer
Knows England's graces,
Or can anew see clear
Familiar faces.
And who loves joy as he
That dwells in shadows?
Do not forget me quite,
O Severn meadows.
Ivor (Bertie) Gurney (1890-1937)
To Joy
Is not this enough for moan
To see this babe all motherless -
A babe beloved - thrust out alone
Upon death's wilderness?
Out tears fall, fall, fall - I would weep
My blood away to make her warm,
Who never went on earth one step,
Nor heard the breath of the storm.
How shall you go, my little child,
Alone on that most wintry wild?
Edmund Charles Blunden (1896-1974)
Harvest
So there's my year, the twelvemonth duly told
Since last I climbed this brow and gloated round
Upon the lands heaped with their wheaten gold,
And now again they spread with wealth imbrowned -
And thriftless I meanwhile,
What honeycombs have I to take, what sheaves to pile?
I see some shrivelled fruits upon my tree,
And gladly would self-kindness feign them sweet;
The bloom smelled heavenly, can these stragglers be
The fruit of that bright birth and this wry wheat,
Can this be from those spires
Which I, or fancy, saw leap to the spring sun's fires?
I peer, I count, but anxious is not rich,
My harvest is not come, the weeds run high;
Even poison-berries, ramping from the ditch
Have stormed the undefended ridges by;
What Michaelmas is mine!
The fields I sought to serve, for sturdier tillage pine.
But hush - Earth's valleys sweet in leisure lie;
And I among them wandering up and down
Will taste their berries, like the bird or fly,
And of their gleanings make both feast and crown.
The Sun's eye laughing looks.
And Earth accuses none that goes among her stooks.
Edmund Charles Blunden
Since we loved
Since we loved, - (the earth that shook
As we kissed, fresh beauty took) -
Love hath been as poets paint,
Life as heaven is to a saint;
All my joys my hope excel,
All my work hath prosper'd well,
All my songs have happy been,
O my love, my life, my queen.
Robert Seymour Bridges (1844-1930)Artists- Edward Ferran, tenor
Clara Schumann | Sechs Lieder, op. 13
Ich stand in dunkeln Träumen
Sie liebten sich beide
Liebeszauber
Der Mond kommt still gegangen
Ich hab’ in deinem Auge
Die stille LotosblumeTexts
Ich stand in dunkeln Träumen
Ich stand in dunklen Träumen
Und starrte ihr Bildnis an,
Und das geliebte Antlitz
Heimlich zu leben begann.
Um ihre Lippen zog sich
Ein Lächeln wunderbar,
Und wie von Wehmutstränen
Erglänzte ihr Augenpaar.
Auch meine Tränen flossen
Mir von den Wangen herab –
Und ach, ich kann’s nicht glauben,
Dass ich dich verloren hab!
Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)
Sie liebten sich beide
Sie liebten sich beide, doch keiner
Wollt’ es dem andern gestehn;
Sie sahen sich an so feindlich,
Und wollten vor Liebe vergehn.
Sie trennten sich endlich und sah’n sich
Nur noch zuweilen im Traum;
Sie waren längst gestorben
Und wussten es selber kaum.
Heinrich Heine
Liebeszauber
Die Liebe saß als Nachtigall
Im Rosenbusch und sang;
Es flog der wundersüße Schall
Den grünen Wald entlang.
Und wie er klang, - da stieg im Kreis
Aus tausend Kelchen Duft,
Und alle Wipfel rauschten leis’,
Und leiser ging die Luft;
Die Bäche schwiegen, die noch kaum
Geplätschert von den Höh’n,
Die Rehlein standen wie im Traum
Und lauschten dem Getön.
Und hell und immer heller floß
Der Sonne Glanz herein,
Um Blumen, Wald und Schlucht ergoß
Sich goldig roter Schein.
Ich aber zog den Wald entlang
Und hörte auch den Schall.
Ach! was seit jener Stund’ ich sang,
War nur sein Widerhall.
Emanuel Geibel (1815-1884)
Der Mond kommt still gegangen
Der Mond kommt still gegangen
Mit seinem gold’nen Schein.
Da schläft in holdem Prangen
Die müde Erde ein.
Und auf den Lüften schwanken
Aus manchem treuen Sinn
Viel tausend Liebesgedanken
Über die Schläfer hin.
Und drunten im Tale, da funkeln
Die Fenster von Liebchens Haus;
Ich aber blicke im Dunklen
Still in die Welt hinaus.
Emanuel Geibel
Ich hab’ in deinem Auge
Ich hab’ in deinem Auge
Den Strahl der ewigen Liebe gesehen,
Ich sah auf deinen Wangen
Einmal die Rosen des Himmels stehn.
Und wie der Strahl im Aug’ erlischt
Und wie die Rosen zerstieben,
Ihr Abglanz ewig neu erfrischt,
Ist mir im Herzen geblieben,
Und niemals werd’ ich die Wangen seh’n
Und nie in’s Auge dir blicken,
So werden sie mir in Rosen steh’n
Und es den Strahl mir schicken.
Friedrich Rückert (1788-1866)
Die stille Lotosblume
Die stille Lotosblume
Steigt aus dem blauen See,
Die Blätter flimmern und blitzen,
Der Kelch ist weiß wie Schnee.
Da gießt der Mond vom Himmel
All seinen gold’nen Schein,
Gießt alle seine Strahlen
In ihren Schoß hinein.
Im Wasser um die Blume
Kreiset ein weißer Schwan,
Er singt so süß, so leise
Und schaut die Blume an.
Er singt so süß, so leise
Und will im Singen vergehn.
O Blume, weiße Blume,
Kannst du das Lied verstehn?
Emanuel GeibelI Stood Darkly Dreaming
I stood darkly dreaming
And stared at her picture,
And that beloved face
Sprang mysteriously to life.
About her lips
A wondrous smile played,
And as with sad tears,
Her eyes gleamed.
And my tears flowed
Down my cheeks,
And ah, I cannot believe
That I have lost you!
They Loved One Another
They loved one another, but neither
Wished to tell the other;
They gave each other such hostile looks,
Yet nearly died of love.
In the end they parted and saw
Each other but rarely in dreams.
They died so long ago
And hardly knew it themselves.
Love’s magic
Love, as a nightingale,
Perched on a rosebush and sang;
The wondrous sound floated
Along the green forest.
And as it sounded, there arose a scent
From a thousand calyxes,
And all the treetops rustled softly,
And the breeze moved softer still;
The brooks fell silent, barely
Having babbled from the heights,
The fawns stood as if in a dream
And listened to the sound.
Brighter, and ever brighter
The sun shone on the scene,
And poured its red glow
Over flowers, forest and glen.
But I made my way along the path
And also heard the sound.
Ah! all that I’ve sung since that hour
Was merely its echo.
The moon rises silently
The moon rises silently
With its golden glow.
The weary earth then falls asleep
In beauty and splendour.
Many thousand loving thoughts
From many faithful minds
Sway on the breezes
Over those who slumber.
And down in the valley
The windows sparkle of my beloved’s house;
But I in the darkness gaze
Silently out into the world.
I saw in your eyes
I saw in your eyes
The ray of eternal love,
I saw on your cheeks
The roses of heaven.
And as the ray dies in your eyes,
And as the roses scatter,
Their reflection, forever new,
Has remained in my heart,
And never will I look at your cheeks,
And never will I gaze into your eyes,
And not see the glow of roses,
And the ray of love.
The silent lotus flower
The silent lotus flower
Rises out of the blue lake,
Its leaves glitter and glow,
Its cup is as white as snow.
The moon then pours from heaven
All its golden light,
Pours all its rays
Into the lotus flower’s bosom.
In the water, round the flower,
A white swan circles,
It sings so sweetly, so quietly,
And gazes on the flower.
It sings so sweetly, so quietly,
And wishes to die as it sings.
O flower, white flower,
Can you fathom the song?
Translations © Richard Stokes, author ofThe Book of Lieder, published by Faber, provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)Artists- Anneke Stern, soprano
Joaquin Rodrigo | Cuatro madrigales amatorios
¿Con qué la lavaré?
Vos me matásteis
¿De dónde vénis amore?
De los álamos vengo, madreTexts
¿Con qué la lavaré?
¿Con qué la lavaré
La tez de la mi cara?
¿Con qué la lavaré,
Que vivo mal penada?
Lávanse las casadas
Con agua de limones:
Lávome yo, cuitada,
Con penas y dolores.
¿Con qué la lavaré,
Que vivo mal penada?
Vos me matásteis
Vos me matásteis,
Niña en cabello,
Vos me habéis muerto.
Riberas de un río
Ví moza vírgo,
Niña en cabello,
Vos me habéis muerto.
Niña en cabello
Vos me matásteis,
Vos me habéis muerto.
¿De dónde venís, amore?
¿De dónde venís, amore?
Bien sé yo de dónde.
¿De dónde venís, amigo?
Fuere yo testigo!
¡Ah!
Bien sé yo de dónde.
De los álamos vengo, madre
De los álamos vengo, madre,
De ver cómo los menea el aire.
De los álamos de Sevilla,
De ver a mi linda amiga,
De ver cómo los menea el aire.
De los álamos vengo, madre,
Der ver cómo los menea el aire.
Texts by Anonymous
With what shall I wash
With what shall I wash
The skin of my face?
With what shall I wash it?
I live in such sorrow.
Married women wash
In lemon water:
In my grief I wash
In pain and sorrow.
With what shall I wash it?
I live in such sorrow.
You killed me
You killed me,
Girl with hair hanging loose,
You have slain me.
By the river bank
I saw a young maiden.
Girl with hair hanging loose,
You have slain me.
Girl with hair hanging loose,
You have killed me,
You have slain me.
Where hast thou been, my love?
Where hast thou been, my love?
I know well where.
Where hast thou been, my friend?
Were I a witness
Ah!
I know well where!
I come from the poplars, mother
I come from the poplars, mother,
From seeing the breezes stir them.
From the poplars of Seville,
From seeing my sweet love,
From seeing the breezes stir them.
I come from the poplars, mother,
From seeing the breezes stir them.
Translations by Jacqueline Cockburn and Richard Stokes published in The Spanish Song Companion(Gollancz, 1992)provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)Artists- Madeleine Wiegers, soprano
Ernest Chausson
Le colibri
Les papillons
NannyTexts
Le Colibri
Le vert colibri, le roi des collines,
Voyant la rosée et le soleil clair
Luire dans son nid tissé d'herbes fines,
Comme un frais rayon s'échappe dans l'air.
II se hâte et vole aux sources voisines,
Où les bambous font le bruit de la mer,
Où I'açoka rouge aux odeurs divines
S'ouvre et porte au cœur un humide éclair.
Vers la fleur dorée il descend, se pose,
Et boit tant d'amour dans la coupe rose
Qu'il meurt, ne sachant s'il l'a pu tarir.
Sur ta lèvre pure, ô ma bien-aimée,
Telle aussi mon âme eut voulu mourir,
Du premier baiser, qui l'a parfumée.
Charles-Marie-René Leconte de Lisle
(1818-1894)
Les papillons
Les papillons couleur de neige
Volent par essaims sur la mer;
Beaux papillons blancs, quand pourrai-je
Prendre le bleu chemin de l’air?
Savez-vous, ô belle des belles,
Ma bayadère aux yeux de jais,
S’ils me voulaient prêter leurs ailes,
Dites, savez-vous où j’irais?
Sans prendre un seul baiser aux roses,
À travers vallons et forêts.
J’irais à vos lèvres mi-closes,
Fleur de mon âme, et j’y mourrais.
Théophile Gautier (1811-1872)
Nanny
Bois chers aux ramiers, pleurez, doux feuillages,
Et toi, source vive, et vous, frais sentiers;
Pleurez, ô bruyères sauvages,
Buissons de houx et d'églantiers!
Printemps, roi fleuri de la verte année,
Ô jeune Dieu, pleure! Été mûrissant,
Coupe ta tresse couronnée;
Et pleure, automne rougissant!
L'angoisse d'aimer brise un cœur fidèle.
Terre et ciel, pleurez! Oh! que je l'aimais!
Cher pays, ne parle plus d'elle:
Nanny ne reviendra jamais!
Charles-Marie-René Leconte de LisleThe Hummingbird
The green humming-bird, the king of the hills,
On seeing the dew and gleaming sun
Shine in his nest of fine woven grass,
Darts into the air like a shaft of light.
He hurries and flies to the nearby springs
Where the bamboos sound like the sea,
Where the red hibiscus with its heavenly scent
Unveils the glint of dew at its heart.
He descends, and settles on the golden flower,
Drinks so much love from the rosy cup
That he dies, not knowing if he’d drunk it dry.
On your pure lips, O my beloved,
My own soul too would sooner have died
From that first kiss which scented it!
Translation © Richard Stokes, author of A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000)provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)
Butterflies
Snow-coloured butterflies
Swarm over the sea;
Beautiful white butterflies, when might I
Take to the azure path of the air?
Do you know, O beauty of beauties,
My jet-eyed bayadère—
Were they to lend me their wings,
Do you know where I would go?
Without kissing a single rose,
Across valleys and forests
I’d fly to your half-closed lips,
Flower of my soul, and there would die.
Nanny
Woods dear to doves, weep; gentle leaves, weep;
And you flowing spring, and you cool paths;
Weep, O wild heather,
Holly and sweet-briar!
Spring, flower-laden monarch of the green year,
O young god, weep! Ripening summer,
Cut your crowned tresses;
And reddening autumn, weep!
Love’s anguish breaks a faithful heart.
Earth and heaven, weep! Oh! how I loved her!
Beloved countryside, speak of her no more:
Nanny will never return!
Translation © Richard Stokes, author of A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000)provided courtesy of Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)Artists- Jádon Brooks, baritone
Margaret Bonds | from "Six Songs on Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay"
Even in the Moment
Hyacinth
What Lips My Lips Have Kissed
Women Have Loved Before As I Love NowTexts
Even in the Moment
Even in the moment of our earliest kiss,
When sighed the straitened bud into the flow’r,
Sat the dry seed of most unwelcomed this;
And that I knew, though not the day and hour.
Too season-wise am I, being country-bred,
To tilt at autumn or defy the frost:
Snuffing the chill even as my fathers did,
I say with them, "What's out tonight is lost."
I only hope, with the mild hope of all
Who watch the leaf take shape upon the tree,
A fairer summer and a later fall
Than in these parts a man is apt to see,
And sunny clusters ripened for the wine:
I tell you this across the blackened vine.
Hyacinth
I am in love with him to whom a hyacinth is dearer
Than I shall ever be dear.
At night when the field-mice are abroad he cannot sleep:
He hears their narrow teeth at the bulbs of his hyacinths.
But the gnawing at my heart he does not hear.
What Lips My Lips Have Kissed
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head ‘til morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
Women Have Loved Before As I Love Now
Women have lov’d before as I love now;
At least, in lively chronicles of the past -
Of Irish waters by a Cornish prow
Or Trojan waters by a Spartan mast
Much to their cost invaded - here and there,
Hunting the am’rous line, skimming the rest,
I find some woman bearing as I bear
Love like a burning city in the breast.
I think however that of all alive
I only in such utter, ancient way
Do suffer love; in me alone survive
The unregen’rate passions of a day
When treacherous queens, with death upon the tread,
Heedless and willful, took their knights to bed.
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)Artists- Cassandra Pinataro, soprano