Erin Morley, soprano; Malcolm Martineau, piano Program

PROGRAM

RICKY IAN GORDON (b. 1956)	Selections from Huit Chansons de Fleurs (2021) “We Should Not Mind So Small a Flower” “One Perfect Rose” “Her Garden” “Play, Orpheus”
Georges BIZET (1838–1875)	“Ouvre ton coeur” (1860)
Sergei RACHMANINOFF (1873–1943)	“Lilacs,” Op. 21, No. 5 (1900–1902)
Nikolai RIMSKY-KORSAKOV (1844–1908)	“The Rose Enslaves the Nightingale,” Op. 2, No. 2 (1866)
Camille SAINT-SAËNS (1835–1921)	“Le Rossignol et la rose” from Parysatis (1901)
Claude DEBUSSY (1862–1918)	“Les Papillons” (1881)
SAINT-SAËNS	“La Libellule” (1893)

INTERMISSION

Richard STRAUSS (1864–1949)	“Ich wollt ein Sträußlein binden,” Op. 68, No. 2 (1918)
Alexander von ZEMLINSKY (1871–1942)	“Vöglein Schwermut,” Op. 10, No. 3 (1901?)
Robert SCHUMANN (1810–1856)	“Der Nussbaum,” Op. 25, No. 3 (1840)
Alban BERG (1885–1935)	“Die Nachtigall” from Sieben frühe Lieder (1907)
Thomas MORLEY (1557-1603?)	“It Was a Lover and his Lass” (1600)
John Woods DUKE (1899–1994)	“The Bird” (1946)
Roger QUILTER (1877–1953)	“Weep You No More,” Op. 12, No. 1 (1907)
Haydn WOOD (1882–1959)	“Bird of Love Divine” (1912)
Julius BENEDICT (1804–1885)	“La Capinera” (1866)
Traditional Irish	“The Last Rose of Summer”
Arthur SULLIVAN (1842–1900)	“‘Neath My Lattice” from The Rose of Persia (1899)

TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS

RICKY IAN GORDON Selections from Huit Chansons de Fleurs
We Should Not Mind So Small a Flower [Emily Dickinson]	One Perfect Rose[Dorothy Parker]
We should not mind so small a flower— Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again. So spicy her Carnations nod— So drunken, reel her Bees— So silver steal a hundred flutes From out a hundred trees— That whoso sees this little flower By faith may clear behold The Bobolinks around the throne And Dandelions gold.	A single flow’r he sent me, since we met. All tenderly his messenger he chose; Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet—One perfect rose. I knew the language of the floweret; “My fragile leaves,” it said, “his hear enclose.” Love long has taken for his amulet One perfect rose. Why is it no one ever sent me yet One perfect limousine, do you suppose? Ah no, it’s always just my luck to get One perfect rose.
Her Garden[Donald Hall]	Play, Orpheus [Ricky Ian Gordon]
I let her garden go. let it go, let it go How can I watch the hummingbird Hover to sip With its beak’s tip The purple bee balm—whirring as we heard It years ago? The weeds rise rank and thick let it go, let it go Where annuals grew and burdock grows Where standing she At once could see The peony, the lily, and the rose Rise over brick. She’d laid in patterns. Moss let it go, let it go Turns the bricks green, softening them By the gray rocks Where hollyhocks That lofted while she lived, stem by tall stem, Blossom with loss.	Summon the April Flowers With your song of May, Azaleas hasten to bloom Until you have played. I missed the swallow’s cry. She missed the butterfly, The Robin, the Blue Jay… But the Lillies of the Valley Dispense their bouquet, Then go away. Summon the April Flowers…
BIZET
Ouvre ton cœur [Louis Delâtre]	Open your heart [trans. Richard Stokes]
La marguerite a fermé sa corolle, L’ombre a fermé les yeux du jour. Belle, me tiendras-tu parole? Ouvre ton cœur à mon amour. Ouvre ton cœur, ô jeune ange, à ma flamme, Qu’un rêve charme ton sommeil. Je veux reprendre mon âme, Comme une fleur s’ouvre au soleil!	The daisy has closed its petals, darkness has closed the eyes of day, will you, fair one, be true to your word? Open your heart to my love. Open your heart to my ardour, young angel, that a dream may charm your sleep – I wish to recover my soul, as a flower unfolds to the
RACHMANINOFF
Сирень [Ekaterina Andreyena Beketova]	Lilacs [trans. Gina Levinson]
По утру, на заре, По росистой траве, Я пойду свежим утром дышать; И в душистую тень, Где теснится сирень, Я пойду своё счастье искать… В жизни счастье одно Мне найти суждено, И то счастье в сирени живёт; На зелёных ветвях, На душистых кистях Моё бедное счастье цветёт…	In the morning at dawn, On the grass glistening with dew, I will walk to breathe the freshness of the morning; And the fragrance of the lilacs, Crowded by the shadows, I will seek my fortune … In life there is a single-minded quest for happiness I am destined to find it, And that happiness lives in these lilacs; On its branches covered by greenery, On its fragrant cluster, My fragile happiness can blossom…
RIMSKY-KORSAKOV
[Aleksey Vasil’yevich Kol’tsov]	The Rose Enslaves the Nightingale [trans. Gina Levinson]
Пленившись розой, соловей И день и ночь поёт над ней; Но роза молча песням внемлет… На лире так певец иной Поёт для девы молодой; А дева милая не знает — Кому поёт? и отчего Печальны песни так его?…	Entranced by roses, the nightingale Day and night sings over her; But the rose listens silently … Another singer takes up the lyre Singing for a young lady; But the naive lady has no clue For whom is he singing, and why Such sad songs from him?
SAINT-SAËNS
Le Rossignol et la Rose	The Nightingale and the Rose *(from Parysatis)*
Ah!	Ah! (Vocalise)
DEBUSSY Les Papillons [Théophile Gautier]	Butterflies [trans. Richard Stokes]
Les papillons couleur de neige Volent par essaims sur la mer; Beaux papillons blancs, quand pourrai-je Prendre le bleu chemin de l’air? Savez-vous, ô belle des belles, Ma bayadère aux yeux de jais, S’ils me pouvaient prêter leurs ailes, Dites, savez-vous où j’irais? Sans prendre un seul baiser aux roses À travers vallons et forêts, J’irais à vos lèvres mi-closes, Fleur de mon âme, et j’y mourrais.	Snow-colored butterflies swarm over the sea; beautiful white butterflies, when might I take to the azure path of the air? Do you know, O beauty of beauties, my jet-eyed bayadère— were they to lend me their wings, do you know where I would go? Without kissing a single rose, across valleys and forests I’d fly to your half-closed lips, flower of my soul, and there would die.
SAINT-SAËNS La Libellule[Camille Saint-Saëns]	The Dragonfly[trans. Pierre Vallet]
Près de l’étang, sur la prêle Vole, agaçant le désir, La libellule au corps frêle Qu’on voudrait en vain saisir. Est-ce une chimère, un rêve Que traverse un rayon d’or? Tout à coup elle fait trêve À son lumineux essor. Elle part, elle se pose, Apparaît dans un éclair Et fuit, dédaignant la rose Pour le lotus froid et clair. À la fois puissante et libre, Sœur du vent, fille du ciel, Son aile frissonne et vibre Comme le luth d’Ariel. Fugitive, transparente, Faite d’azur et de nuit, Elle semble une âme errante Sur l’eau qui dans l’ombre luit. Radieuse elle se joue Sur les lotus entr’ouverts, Comme un baiser sur la joue De la Naïade aux yeux verts. Que cherche-t-elle? une proie. Sa devise est: cruauté. Le carnage met en joie Son implacable beauté.	Near the pond, over the horsetails Flies, provoking desire, The frail bodied dragonfly That one desires to catch in vain. Is it a chimera, a dream Crossed by a golden ray? Suddenly she ceases Her luminous flight. She departs, she alights Appears in a flash And flees, disdaining the rose To the lotus flower cold and clear. Both powerful and free, Sister of the wind, daughter of the sky Her wing shudders and vibrates Like Ariel’s lute. Fleeting and transparent, Made of azure and night, She seems a wandering soul Over the water that flickers in the shadow. Radiant she scampers Over the half-opened lotus flowers, Like a kiss on the cheek Of the green-eyed naiad. What does she seek? a prey. Her motto is cruelty. Carnage satisfies Her implacable beauty.
STRAUSS Ich wollt’ ein Sträußlein binden[Clemens Brentano]	I meant to make you a posy[trans. Richard Stokes]
Ich wollt ein Sträußlein binden, Da kam die dunkle Nacht, Kein Blümlein war zu finden, Sonst hätt’ ich dir’s gebracht. Da flossen von den Wangen Mir Thränen in den Klee, Ein Blümlein aufgegangen Ich nun im Garten seh. Das wollt’ ich dir brechen Wohl in dem dunklen Klee, Doch fing es an zu sprechen: „Ach, tue mir nicht weh! „Sei freundlich in dem Herzen, Betracht’ dein eigen Leid, Und lasse mich in Schmerzen Nicht sterben vor der Zeit!” Und hätt’s nicht so gesprochen, Im Garten ganz allein, So hätt’ ich dir’s gebrochen, Nun aber darf’s nicht sein. Mein Schatz ist ausgeblieben, Ich bin so ganz allein. Im Lieben wohnt Betrüben, Und kann nicht anders sein.	I meant to make you a posy, But dark night then came, There were no flowers to be found, Or I’d have brought you some. Tears then flowed down my cheeks Into the clover, And now I saw a flower That had sprung up in the garden. I meant to pick it for you There in the dark clover, When it started to speak: ‘Ah, do no hurt me! Be kind in your heart, Consider you own suffering, And do not make me die In torment before my time!’ And had it not spoken these words, All alone in the garden, I’d have picked it for you, But now that cannot be. My sweetheart stayed away, I am utterly alone. Sadness dwells in loving, And cannot be otherwise.
ZEMLINSKY Vöglein Schwermut [Christian Morgenstern]	The Bird of Melancholy[trans. Ryan M. Prendergast]
Ein schwarzes Vöglein fliegt über die Welt, das singt so todestraurig… Wer es hört, der hört nichts anderes mehr, wer es hört, der tut sich ein Leides an, der mag keine Sonne mehr schauen. Allmitternacht ruht es sich aus auf dem Fingern des Tods. Der streichelt’s leis und spricht ihm zu:” Flieg, mein Vögelchen! flieg, mein Vögelchen!” Und wieder fliegt’s flötend über die Welt.	A little black bird flies over the world, And sings so very sadly… Whoever hears it hears nothing else, Whoever hears it does themselves harm, And sees the sun no more. At the midnight hour, it rests itself On the fingers of Death. With gentle caress, he speaks to it: “Fly, my little bird! Fly, my little bird!” And once again it flies whistling over the world.
SCHUMANN Der Nussbaum [Julius Mosen]	The Walnut Tree[trans. Richard Stokes]
Es grünet ein Nussbaum, vor dem Haus, Duftig, Luftig Breitet er blättrig die Blätter aus. Viel liebliche Blüten stehen d’ran, Linde Winde Kommen, sie herzlich zu umfahn. Es flüstern je zwei zu zwei gepaart, Neigend, Beugend Zierlich zum Kusse die Häuptchen zart. Sie flüstern von einem Mägdlein, das Dächte Die Nächte Und Tagelang, wüsste ach! selber nicht was. Sie flüstern—wer mag verstehen so gar Leise Weis’? Flüstern von Bräut’gam und nächstem Jahr. Das Mägdlien horchet, es rauscht im Baum; Sehnend, Wähnend Sinkt es lächelnd in Schlaf und Traum.	A nut tree blossoms outside the house, Fragrantly, Airily, It spreads its leafy boughs. Many lovely blossoms it bears, Gentle Winds Come to caress them tenderly. Paired together, they whisper, Inclining, Bending Gracefully their delicate heads to kiss. They whisper of a maiden who Dreamed For nights And days of, alas, she knew not what. They whisper—who can understand So soft A song? Whisper of a bridegroom and next year. The maiden listens, the tree rustles; Yearning, Musing She drifts smiling into sleep and dreams.
BERG Die Nachtigall [Theodor Storm]	The Nightingale[trans. Ryan M. Pendergast]
Das macht, es hat die Nachtigall Die ganze Nacht gesungen; Da sind von ihrem süssen Schall, Da sind in Hall und Widerhall Die Rosen aufgesprungen. Sie war doch sonst ein wildes Blut, Nun geht sie tief in Sinnen; Trägt in der Hand den Sommerhut Und duldet still der Sonne Glut Und weiß nicht, was beginnen. Das macht, es hat die Nachtigall Die ganze Nacht gesungen; Da sind von ihrem süssen Schall, Da sind in Hall und Widerhall Die Rosen aufgesprungen.	Once she was of wild blood, Now she wafts deep in thought. She carries a summer hat in her hand, And silently suffers the summer heat And knows not what to begin. Because the nightingale Has sung the entire night, From her sweet sound, From its echo and resound, The roses have sprung up. Because the nightingale Has sung the entire night, From her sweet sound, From its echo and resound, The roses have sprung up.
THOMAS MORLEY It Was a Lover and his Lass [William Shakespeare]	DUKE The Bird[Elinor Wylie]
It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o’er the green cornfield did pass, In springtime, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring. Between the acres of the rye, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, Those pretty country folks would lie, In springtime, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring. This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that a life was but a flower In springtime, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring. And therefore take the present time, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, For love is crownèd with the prime In springtime, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.	O clear and musical, Sing again! Sing again! Hear the rain fall Through the long night, Bring me your song again, O dear delight! O dear and comforting, Mine again! Mine again! Hear the rain sing And the dark rejoice! Shine like a spark again, O clearest voice! O clearest voice!
QUILTER Weep You No More [Anonymous]	WOOD Bird of Love Divine[Kathleen Birch]
Weep you no more, sad fountains; What need you flow so fast? Look how the snowy mountains Heaven’s sun doth gently waste! But my sun’s heavenly eyes View not your weeping, That now lies sleeping, Softly now, softly lies Sleeping. Sleep is a reconciling, A rest that peace begets; Doth not the sun rise smiling When fair at e’en he sets? Rest you, then, rest, sad eyes! Melt not in weeping, While she lies sleeping, Softly now, softly lies Sleeping.	One day there sang a little bird From out the heaven’s blue. No sweeter song was ever heard, For, Love, he sang of you. Ah…! One day the world with song shall ring, For joy that you are mine, And in my heart shall ever sing That bird of Love divine. Ah…!
BENEDICT La Capinera [Unknown, possibly Francesco Rizzelli	The Wren [trans. Richard Sharman]
Col ritornar del dolce April Tu torni pur, o mia gentil, E vieni a dir la tua canzon Fra vaghi fior del mio veron. Tua voce un tal piacer mi fa Che di cantar desio mi dà. Cantiam insiem mi guida tu Cantiam l’amor, la gioventù. Salutan te l’erbe ed i fior In quell’ arcan linguaggio lor. Del venticel il mormorar Un bacio sol cercar ti par E mentre il cor vicin a te D’un gaudio ho pien ch’uman non è Io vuò cantar mi guida tu Cantiam l’amor la gioventù, La gioventù, l’amor cantiam!	With the return of sweet April You return too, my sweet one And come to tell me your song Between the beautiful flowers on my balcony Your voice gives me so much pleasure It makes me want to sing Let us sing together, you will show me how, Let us sing to love and to youth. The grass and the flowers greet you In that strange language of theirs The whispering of the wind seems To beg just one kiss from you And while my heart is close to yours It is filled with a joy that is not mortal I want to sing, you will show me how, Let us sing to love and to youth, To youth and to love, we will sing!
Traditional Irish The Last Rose of Summer [Thomas Moore]	SULLIVAN “Neath My Lattice” from The Rose of Persia [Basil Hood]
‘Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone; No flow’r of her kindred, No rosebud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes Or give sigh for sigh! I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one. To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them; Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o’er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow, When friendships decay, And from love’s shining circle The gems drop away! When true hearts lie withered, And fond ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit This bleak world alone?	‘Neath my lattice through the night Comes the west-wind perfume laden: As a lover to a maid Sighing softly, “Here am I!” Come and wander where I wander, In the silence of the stars! In the moonbeams’ magic light, Cool and silent dewdrops glisten Where the roses weep to listen To my heart’s impatient cry: “Shall the cage-bird leave her prison, golden though her prison bars?” Though the bars, Thy wings beat, To the stars, O sing! Let thy soul on wings of music Soar beyond thy prison bars! Let thy soul on music soar! Ah! Oh bulbul, sing to the stars! Ah! O Let thy soul on wings of music Soar beyond thy prison bars! Ah! Let thy soul soar beyond soar Ah! beyond!