Tag: Secular

‘Will you walk a little faster?’ said a whiting to a snail.
‘There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle – will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?

‘You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!’
But the snail replied, ‘Too far, too far!’ and gave a look askance –
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.

‘What matters it how far we go?’ his scaly friend replied.
‘There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France –
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?’

Lewis Carroll (1832–1898)
From Alice in Wonderland

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all aglimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

W.B. Yeats (1865-1939)

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Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

W. B. Yeats (1865–1939)

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This morning
when the wren sang its tiny heart out to be heard over the rush hour
And the sun pushed hopefully through the naked trees
I heard you

This evening
when the fox froze in the icy pool of streetlight
And the clouds tried to dull the moon’s ecstatic brilliance
I saw you

Last night
when the rain drummed a jazz rhythm
On the glass
And I was warm-wrapped safe
I felt you

You’re always around me,
Whenever I hear you
Each time I see you
The moment I feel you
You’re with me.

© Paddy Moore

If you would like to perform this piece, please get in touch via the Contact page. I am happy to send perusal scores if interest is expressed.

With lifted feet, hands still,
I am poised, and down the hill
Dart, with heedful mind;
The air goes by in a wind.

Swifter and yet more swift,
Till the heart with a mighty lift
Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry:-
‘O bird, see; see, bird, I fly.

*’Is this your joy, so wild?
O bird, then I, though a child,
For a golden moment share
Your feathery life in air!’

Say, heart, is there aught like this
**In a world of bliss?
‘Tis more than skating, bound
Steel-shod to the level ground.

Speed slackens now, I float
Awhile in my airy boat;
Till, when the wheels scarce crawl,
My feet to the treadles fall.

Alas, that the longest hill
Must end in a vale; but still,
Who climbs with toil, wheresoe’er,
Shall find wings waiting there.

Henry Charles Beeching (1859-1919)

* In the original poem, these two lines read:
‘Is this, is this your joy?
O bird, then I, though a boy,

** In the original poem, this line reads:
In a world that is full of bliss?

If you would like to perform this piece, please get in touch via the Contact page. I am happy to send perusal scores if interest is expressed.

For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue.—And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. 

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
From Lines written a few miles above Tintern Abbey

If you would like to perform this piece, please get in touch via the Contact page. I am happy to send perusal scores if interest is expressed.