(no subject)
I've been listening to music by Stephen Chatman, a composer from Minnesota and Vancouver, a lot (one of my coworkers is going to graduate school under him, which reminded me of one of his song cycles I sang in high school), and there's something about it that makes it feel like music of the north (maybe the title of the record, Due North). He sets a lot of famous poets (like Percy Shelley).
MUSIC, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
MUSIC, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.