Home of my heart (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry): Difference between revisions

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# [[Come pretty wag (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)|Come pretty wag]]  
# [[Come pretty wag (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)|Come pretty wag]]  
# [[Ye thrilled me once (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)|Ye thrilled me once]]
# [[Ye thrilled me once (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)|Ye thrilled me once]]
#''Better music ne'er were known'' (Francis Beaumont and Fletcher)
# [[Better music ne'er was known (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)| Better music ne'er was known]]


'''External websites:'''
'''External websites:'''

Revision as of 08:59, 4 May 2016

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  • (Posted 2016-05-02)  CPDL #39514:  Icon_pdf.gif Icon_snd.gif Capella
Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2016-05-02).   Score information: A4, 6 pages, 88 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes:

General Information

Title: Home of my heart
Composer: Charles Hubert Hastings Parry
Lyricist: A. C. Benson

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB

Genre: SecularPartsong

Language: English
Instruments: Keyboard

Published: 1898

Description: Eight Four-part Songs (1898) No.4

  1. Phillis
  2. O Love, they wrong thee much
  3. At her fair hands
  4. Home of my heart
  5. You gentle nymphs
  6. Come pretty wag
  7. Ye thrilled me once
  8. Better music ne'er was known

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

Home of my heart, when wilt thou ope
Thy silent doors to let me in?
What! not one glimpse to quicken hope
Of all that I aspire to win?
So near, and yet so oft denied!
The roses on my trellis throw
Their heedless scent from side to side,
Yet will not whisper what they know.

The yellow moon that hangs and peers
Amid the icy horns on high,
Leans to the list'ning earth, yet fears
To tell the secret of the sky.
O pines that whisper in the wind,
When ling'ring herds from pasture come,
Breathe somewhat of your steadfast mind,
The hour is yours: yet ye are dumb.
 
Sweet answering eyes, you too have learned
The secret that you will not tell,
I should have known it, but you turned
That moment, and the lashes fell.
Home of my heart, why stand so cold
And silent? there is mirth within:
The sun sinks low, the day is old,
Oh, let the baffled wand'rer in!