Vocal Expression: A Class-book of Voice Training and Interpretation

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Harper & brothers, 1911 - 330 páginas
 

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Página 82 - GROW old along with me ! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made : Our times are in His hand Who saith ' A whole I planned, Youth shows but half ; trust God : see all, nor be afraid...
Página 115 - It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding : Sweet lovers love the spring.
Página 109 - O thou Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill ; Wild Spirit which art moving everywhere ; Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh hear!
Página 120 - O, struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars...
Página 110 - Angels of rain and lightning ! there are spread On the blue surface of thine airy surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm.
Página 111 - Oh lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!
Página 104 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Página 30 - Now we are engaged in a great civil war testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live.
Página 113 - THOU still unravished bride of quietness! Thou foster-child of silence and slow time ! Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme : What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these ? What maidens loth ? What mad pursuit ? What struggle to escape ? What pipes and timbrels ? What wild ecstasy ? Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye...
Página 116 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.

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