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lirik lagu havergal brian - symphony no. 5 "wine of summer"

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the sun holds all the earth and all the sky
from the gold throne of this midsummer day
in the soft air the shadow of a sigh
breathes on the leaves and scarcely makes them sway
the wood lies silent in the shimmering heat
save where the insects make a lazy drone
and ever and anon from some tree near
a dove’s enamoured moan
or distant rook’s faint cawing harsh and sweet
comes dimly floating to my listening ear

right in the wood’s deep heart i lay mе down
and look up at the sky between the lеaves
through delicate lace i see her deep blue gown
across a fern a scarlet spider weaves
from branch to branch a slender silver thread
and hangs there shining in the white sunbeams
a ruby tremulous on a streak of light
and high above my head
one spray of honeysuckle sways and dreams
with one wild honey~bee for acolyte

my nest is all untrod and virginal
and virginal the path that led me here
for all along the grass grew straight and tall
and live things rustled in the thicket near:
and briar rose stretched out to sweet briar rose
wild slender arms, and barred the way to me
with many a flowering arch, rose~pink or white
as bending carefully
leaving unbroken all their blossoming bows
i passed along, a reverent neophyte
the air is full of soft imaginings
they float unseen beneath the hot sunbeams
like tired moths on heavy velvet wings
they droop above my drowsy head like dreams
the hum of bees, the murmuring of doves
the soft faint whispering of unnumbered trees
mingle with unreal things, and low and deep
from visionary groves
imagined lutes make voiceless harmonies
and false flutes sigh before the gates of sleep

o rare sweet hour! o cup of golden wine!
the night of these my days is dull and dense
and stars are few, be this the anodyne!
of many woes the perfect recompense
i thought that i had lost for evermore
the sense of this ethereal drunkenness
this fierce desire to live, to breathe, to be;
but even now, no less
than in the merry noon that danced before
my tedious night, i taste its ecstasy

taste, and remember all the summer days
that lie, like golden reflections in the lake
of vanished years, unreal but sweet always;
soft luminous shadows that i may not take
into my hands again, but still discern
drifting like gilded ghosts before my eyes
beneath the waters of forgotten things
sweet with faint memories
and mellow with old loves that used to burn
dead summer days ago, like fierce red kings
and this hour too must die, even now the sun
droops to the sea, and with untroubled feet
the quiet evening comes: the day is done
the air that throbbed beneath the passionate heat
grows calm and cool and virginal again
the colour fades and sinks to sombre tones
as when in youthful cheeks a blush grows dim
hushed are the monotones
of doves and bees, and the long flowery lane
rustles beneath the wind in playful whim

gone are the passion and the pulse that beat
with fevered strokes, and gone the unseen things
that clothed the hour with shining raiment meet
to deck enchantments and imaginings
no joy is here but only neutral peace
and loveless languor and indifference
and faint remembrance of lost ecstasy
the darkening shades increase
my dreams go out like tapers — i must hence
far off i hear night calling to the sea


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