The romantic era produced some of the corniest music ever. Sentimentality was just what one did in the 1800s. To celebrate this Arbor Day, here’s a little ditty by Henry Russell with words by George Pope Morris. It’s more about sentimental memories than the tree itself, and is quite possibly the corniest piece of music ever written.
Woodman spare that tree! Touch not a single bough; In youth it sheltered me, And I’ll protect it now; ‘Twas my fore father’s hand That placed it near the cot, There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not!
That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o’er land and sea, And wouldst thou hack it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth, bound ties; Oh! spare that ag-ed oak Now towering to the skies!
When but a idle boy I sought its grateful shade; In all their gushing joy Here, too, my sisters played. My mother kiss’d me here; My father press’d my hand– Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand!
My heart-strings round thee cling, Close as thy bark, old friend! Here shall the wild-bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree! the storm still brave! And, woodman, leave the spot; While I’ve a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm it not.
William Blake‘s famous poem, The Lamb, has been set many times to music. Most of these settings evoke a beautiful pastorale scene, much like what we heard yesterday. You know – green field, sheep bouncing around, flowers, happy little trees springing up in the background.
That’s all nice, but while the poem talks about ovines, it’s not exactly pastorale – it’s a little on the cryptic / mystical side. And then there’s Blake, who had religious visions and his own independent set of Christian-based beliefs, and hated the Church of England. This poem is not a Sunday-school rhyme for kids to recite. That’s why the winner of the “best setting of this poem award” goes to John Tavener.
If the next paragraph is confusing, don’t worry; you don’t need to understand it to enjoy the music. 🙂
Just like Blake’s poem, Tavener’s music has a simple exterior and a complex interior. It opens with a single voice melody which only uses four pitches. The second voice joins, singing the same melody, but inverted – so when voice 1 goes up a major third, voice 2 goes down a major third. The effect is a “mirror image” of the melody, and it’s haunting, especially as the texture is so transparent – there is no noisy accompaniment to cover up the strange sound. After this, a new musical phrase is introduced, now employing retrograde motion – the melody is split in half, and sings 7 notes forward, then reverses and sings 7 notes backwards. Then, naturally, voice 2 enters, singing the same phrase with retrograde motion, inverted to a mirror-image of voice 1.
Is your head spinning? Here, maybe this awesome graphic will help.
or maybe not …
The music continues with more of this mirror-image effects, just enough edge to make you listen closely, but not so much as to make you turn away. Finally, the last part of the poem is stated in very simple, traditional harmony, using a minimum number of pitches and harmony. And it’s chilling.
Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life & bid thee feed By the stream & o’er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, wooly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?
Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee, Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee: He is callèd by thy name, For he calls himself a Lamb. He is meek, & he is mild; He became a little child. I a child, & thou a lamb, We are callèd by his name. Little Lamb, God bless thee! Little Lamb, God bless thee!
We visited Healey Willan during Holy Week, so it’s only fair to give him a listen now that we’re on the other side of Easter. His short, straightforward setting of the biblical text from Song of Solomon is simply sublime. The poetry is a fairly sensual celebration of two lovers, and is used in the Easter season as an allegory to Christ and his bride, the church.
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