John Frandsen
Songs of Experience (1991)
for soprano or tenor solo & guitar
Dur. 12′
To poems by William Blake
SCORE
T/ (+45) 3313 5445 · E/ sales@edition-s.dk · W/ www.edition-s.dk
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for soprano or tenor solo & guitar
Dur. 12′
To poems by William Blake
T/ (+45) 3313 5445 · E/ sales@edition-s.dk · W/ www.edition-s.dk
for soprano or tenor solo & guitar
Dur. 12′
I - The Voice of the Ancient Bard
II - The GARDEN of LOVE
III - THE FLY
IV - The SICK ROSE
V - AH! SUN-FLOWER
I - The Voice of the Ancient Bard
Youth of delight come hither, And see the opening morn, Image of truth new born.
Doubt is fled & clouds of reason, Dark disputes & artful teazing. Folly is an endless maze; Tangled roots perplex her ways, How many have fallen there! They stumble all night over bones of the dead: And feel they know not what but care: And wish to lead others when they should be led
II - The GARDEN of LOVE
I went to the Garden of Love. And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And Thou shalt not, writ over the door; So I turn’d to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore,
And I saw it was filled with graves, And tomb-stones where flowers should be: And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds, And binding with briars, my joys & desires.
III - THE FLY
Little Fly
Thy summers play, My thoughtless hand Has brush’d away.
Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me?
For I dance, And drink & sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life And strength and breath: And the want Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly, If I live, Or if I die.
O Rose thou art sick. The invisible worm, That flies in the night In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.
Ah Sun-flower! weary of time, Who countest the steps of the Sun: Seeking after that sweet golden clime, Where the traveller’s journey is done.
Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow: Arise from their graves and aspire, Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.
William Blake
bones of the
Semplice q = 72