Futility (James Crawford): Difference between revisions
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==Original text and translations== | ==Original text and translations== | ||
{{Text|English| | {{Text|English| | ||
Move him into the sun | Move him into the sun - | ||
Gently its touch awoke him once, | |||
At home whispering of fields half sown | At home, whispering of fields half-sown. | ||
Always it woke him even in France | Always it woke him, even in France, | ||
Until this morning and this snow | Until this morning and this snow. | ||
If anything might rouse him now | |||
The kind old sun will know. | |||
Are limbs so dear achieved are sides | Think how it wakes the seeds - | ||
Was it for this | Woke once the clays of a cold star. | ||
Oh what made fatuous sunbeams toil | Are limbs, so dear achieved, are sides | ||
Full-nerved, still warm, too hard to stir? | |||
Was it for this the clay grew tall? | |||
- Oh what made fatuous sunbeams toil | |||
To break earth's sleep at all?}} | |||
[[Category:Sheet music]] | [[Category:Sheet music]] | ||
[[Category:Modern music]] | [[Category:Modern music]] |
Revision as of 15:12, 6 January 2020
Music files
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MuseScore | |
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- Editor: James Crawford (submitted 2020-01-02). Score information: A4, 4 pages, 81 kB Copyright: CC BY NC ND
- Edition notes: MusicXML source file(s) in compressed .mxl format.
General Information
Title: Futility
Composer: James Crawford
Lyricist: Wilfred Owen
Number of voices: 1v Voicing: S
Genre: Secular, Art song
Language: English
Instruments: Piano
First published: 2020
Description: Futility is the seventh and last of a collection of songs based upon the poems of Wilfred Owen. It is not intended that this collection should be sung as a cycle. It may serve as part of a Remembrance Day event, or recital, or as a competition piece.
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
Move him into the sun -
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields half-sown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.
Think how it wakes the seeds -
Woke once the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear achieved, are sides
Full-nerved, still warm, too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
- Oh what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth's sleep at all?