lirik lagu roger sessions - when lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd
[soprano]
when lilacs last in the door-yard bloom’d
and the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night
i mourn’d—and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring
[baritone]
o ever-returning spring! trinity sure to me you bring;
lilac blooming perennial, and drooping star in the west
and thought of him i love
[chorus]
o powerful, western, fallen star!
o shades of night! o moody, tearful night!
o great star disappear’d! o the black murk that hides the star!
o cruel hands that hold me powerless! o helpless soul of me!
o harsh surrounding cloud, that will not free my soul!
[baritone]
in the door-yard fronting an old farm-house, near the white-wash’d palings
stands the lilac bush, tall-growing, with heart-shaped leaves of rich green
with many a pointed blossom, rising, delicate, with the perfume strong i love
with ev’ry leaf a miracle . . . . and from this bush
a sprig, with its flower, i break
[soprano]
in the swamp, in secluded recesses
a shy and hidden bird
solitary, the thrush
the hermit
sings by himself a song
song of the bleeding throat!
death’s outlet song of life— (for well, dear brother, i know
if thou wast not gifted to sing, thou would’st surely die.)
[chorus]
over the breast of the spring, the land, amid cities
amid lanes, and through old woods, where lately the violets peep’d from the ground
amid the gr-ss in the fields, p-ssing the endless gr-ss;
p-ssing the yellow-spear’d wheat
p-ssing the apple-tree blows of white and pink in the orchards;
carrying a corpse to where it shall rest in the grave
night and day journeys a coffin
coffin that p-sses through lanes and streets
through day and night, with the great cloud darkening the land
with the pomp of inloop’d flags, with the cities drap’d in black
with the show of the states themselves, as of cr-pe-veil’d women, standing
with processions long and winding, and the flambeaus of the night
with the silent sea of faces
with the waiting depot, the arriving coffin, and the sombre faces
and the dirges through the night, with the thousand voices rising strong and solemn;
pour’d around the coffin
the dim-lit churches and the shuddering organs
and the tolling, tolling bells’ perpetual clang;
[baritone]
here! coffin that slowly p-sses
i give you my sprig of lilac
(nor for you, for one, alone;
blossoms and branches green to coffins all i bring:
for fresh as the morning—thus will i carol a song for you, o sane and sacred death
all over bouquets of roses
o death! i cover you over with roses and early lilies;
but mostly and now the lilac that blooms the first
with loaded arms i come, pouring for you
for you, and the coffins all of you, o death.)
[chorus]
o western orb, sailing the heav’n!
now i know what you must have meant
as we walk’d up and down in the dark blue so mystic
as we walk’d in silence the transparent shadowy night
as i saw you had something to tell, as you bent to me night after night
as you droop’d from the sky low down, as if to my side, (while the other stars all look’d on;)
as we wander’d together, i saw, ere you went, how full you were of woe;
as i stood in the cold, transparent night
as i watch’d where you p-ss’d
and my soul, in its trouble, sank
[baritone]
sing on, there in the swamp!
o singer bashful and tender! i come—i understand you;
but a moment i linger—for the star, my departing comrade, holds me
[alto]
o how shall i warble myself for the dead one there i loved?
and how shall i deck my song for the large sweet soul that is gone?
and what shall my perfume be, to adorn the grave of him i love?
[chorus]
sea-winds, blown from east and west
blown from the eastern sea, and blown from the western sea
[alto]
with these will i perfume the grave of him i love
[soprano]
o what shall the pictures be that i hang on the chamber walls
to adorn the burial-house of him i love?
[chorus]
pictures of growing spring, and farms, and homes
with the fourth-month eve at sundown, and the gray smoke lucid and bright
with floods of yellow gold of the gorgeous, indolent, sinking sun, burning, expanding the air;
with the fresh sweet herbage under foot, and the pale green leaves of the trees;
in the distance the flowing glaze of the river, with a wind-dapple here and there;
with ranging hills on the bank, with many a line against the sky, and shadows;
and the city at hand, with dwellings so dense, and stacks of chimneys
and all the scenes of life, and the workshops, and the workmen homeward returning
lo! body and soul! this land!
mighty manhattan, with spires, and the sparkling and hurrying tides, and the ships;
this varied and ample land—the south and the north in the light—ohio’s shores, and flashing
missouri
and ever the far-spreading prairies, cover’d with gr-ss and corn
lo! the most excellent sun, so calm and haughty;
the violet and purple morn, with just-felt breezes;
the gentle, soft-born measureless light;
the miracle, spreading, bathing all—the fulfill’d noon;
the coming eve, delicious—the welcome night, and the stars
over my cities shining all, enveloping man and land
[baritone]
sing on! sing on, you gray-brown bird!
sing from the swamps, the recesses—pour your chant
limitless out of the cedars and pines
[soprano]
sing on dearest brother — warble your
loud human song, with voice of uttermost woe
[soprano, baritone, and chorus]
o liquid, and free, and tender!
o wild and loose to my soul! o wondrous singer!
you only i hear . . . yet the star holds me, (but will soon depart;)
yet the lilac, with its mastering odor, holds me
[baritone]
now while i sat in the day, and look’d forth
in the close of the day, with its light, and the fields of spring, and the farmer preparing his crops
in the large unconscious scenery of my land, with its lakes and forests
in the heavenly aereal beauty
under the arching heavens of the afternoon, and the voices of children and women
the many-moving sea-tides, and ships how they sail’d
and the summer approaching with richness, and the fields all busy with labor
and the infinite separate houses, each with its daily usages;
and the streets, how their throbbings throbb’d, and the cities pent — lo!
falling upon them all, and enveloping me with the rest
appear’d the cloud, appear’d the long black cloud
and i knew death, its thought, and the sacred knowledge of death
[chorus]
then with the knowledge of death as walking one side of me
and the thought of death close-walking the other side of me
and, as holding the hands of companions
i fled forth to the hiding, receiving night
down to the shores of the water
to the solemn shadowy cedars, and the ghostly pines so still
[baritone]
and the singer so shy, receiv’d us comrades three;
and he sang what seem’d the carol of death, and a verse for him i love
and my spirit tallied the song
[alto]
come, lovely and soothing death
undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving
in the day, in the night, to all, to each
sooner or later, delicate death
prais’d be the fathomless universe, for life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious;
and for love, sweet love—but praise! praise! praise!
for the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death
dark mother, always gliding near, with soft feet
have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome?
then i chant it for thee—i glorify thee above all;
i bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly
approach, strong deliveress!
when it is so—when thou hast taken them, i joyously sing the dead
lost in the loving, floating ocean of thee
laved in the flood of thy bliss, o death
from me to thee glad serenades, dances for thee i propose, saluting thee—adornments and feastings
for thee;
and the sights of the open landscape, and the high-spread sky, are fitting
and life and the fields, and the huge and thoughtful night
the night, in silence, under many a star;
the ocean shore, and the husky whispering wave, whose voice i know;
and the soul turneth to thee, o vast and well-veil’d death
and the body gratefully nestling close to thee
over the tree-tops i float thee a song!
over the rising and falling waves—over the myriad fields, and the prairies wide;
over the dense-pack’d cities all, and the teeming wharves and ways
i float this carol with joy, with joy to thee, o death!
[soprano]
to the tally of my soul
loud and strong kept up the gray-brown bird
with pure, deliberate notes, spreading, filling the night
[chorus]
loud in the pines and cedars dim
clear in the freshness moist, and the swamp-perfume;
and i with my comrades there in the night
[baritone]
while my sight unclosed
as to long panoramas of visions
[all]
and i saw askant the armies
i saw, as in noiseless dreams, hundreds of battle-flags;
borne through the smoke of the battle, and pierc’d with missiles, i saw them
and carried hither and yon through the smoke, and torn and bl–dy;
and at last for a few shreds left on the staffs, (and all in silence,)
and the staffs all splinter’d and broken
i saw battle-corpses, myriads of them
and the white skeletons of young men—i saw them;
i saw the debris and debris of all the slain soldiers of the war;
and we saw they were not as was thought;
they themselves were fully at rest—they suffer’d not;
the living remain’d and suffer’d—the mother suffer’d
and the wife and the child, and the musing comrade suffer’d
and the armies that remain’d suffer’d
p-ssing the visions, p-ssing the night;
p-ssing, unloosing the hold of my comrades’ hands;
p-ssing the song of the hermit bird, and the tallying song of my soul
p-ssing, i leave thee, lilac with heart-shaped leaves;
i leave thee there in the door-yard, blooming, returning with spring
i cease from my song for thee;
from my gaze on thee in the west, communing with thee
o comrade lustrous. with silver face in the night
yet each i keep, and all, retrievements out of the night;
for the sweetest, wisest soul of all my days and lands…
lilac and star and bird, twined with the chant of my soul
there in the fragrant pines, and the cedars dusk and dim
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