The Ballad of the Harp Weaver - Rosen, Barbara

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"Selected verses from "The Ballad of the Harp Weaver" by Edna St. Vincent Millay"

◈ Genre / Form Art songs

♯ Tonart A minor

⁄ Taktart 2/2

♬ Besetzung → SATB

◆ Difficulty

Unterstufe

↕ Tonumfang G – e''

¶ Sprache → Englisch

Takte 76

Textur mixed texture

Stimmen 4

Instrumente SATB

Seiten 7

CPDL Nr. 56470

Bearbeiter John Hetland

Veröffentlicht 2020-01-01

Lizenz CPDL-Lizenz

♫Tonumfänge

d' – e''

a – c#''

c – g'

G – c'

Schlagwörter

Pages_using_DynamicPageList3_parser_function Posted_in_January_2020 More_than_90_days_old More_than_30_days_old CPDL_564xy

¶Liedtext

Men say the winter was bad that year Fuel was scarce and food was dear. A wind with a wolf's head howled about our door And we burned up the chairs and sat upon the floor All that was left us was a chair we couldn't break And a harp with a woman's head nobody would take for song or pity sake In the deep night I felt my mother rise And stare down upon me with love in her eyes I saw my mother sitting on the one good chair A light falling on her from I couldn't tell where Looking nineteen and not a day older And the harp with a woman's head leaned against her shoulder. Her thin fingers moving in the thin tall strings Were weave, weave, weaving wonderful things. Many bright threads from where I couldn't see Were running through the harp strings rapidly. She sang as she worked and the harp strings spoke; her voice never faltered and the thread never broke. And when I awoke, there sat my mother With the harp against her shoulder looking nineteen and not a day older. A smile about her lips and a light about her head And her hands in the harp strings frozen dead And piled up beside her, toppling to the skies Were the clothes of a king's son just my size.

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