The joyous birds are singing (Agnes Zimmermann): Difference between revisions
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==Original text and translations== | ==Original text and translations== | ||
{{Text|English| | {{Text|English| | ||
{{Vs|1 }} The joyous birds are singing | |||
To welcome in the day, | |||
The fairest buds are springing | |||
To hail the coming May, | |||
While yet the morn is new, | |||
Come, maidens, to the bowers, | |||
Before the falling dew | |||
Has dried upon the flowers. | |||
{{Vs|2 }} Quick cull the early roses | |||
In all their glowing bloom, | |||
The jasmine, which discloses | |||
Its fragrant rich perfume, | |||
With all the buds of Spring | |||
Your blushing garlands twine, | |||
And haste your wreaths to bring, | |||
To deck Our Lady's shrine. | |||
{{Vs|3 }} Oh thou whose home of splendour | |||
Is in yon starry skies, | |||
The homage which we tender | |||
Receive with pitying eyes, | |||
And from thy cloudless sphere | |||
Of never dying day, | |||
Look on thy children here | |||
Who now before thee pray. | |||
}} | |||
[[Category:Sheet music]] | [[Category:Sheet music]] | ||
[[Category:Romantic music]] | [[Category:Romantic music]] |
Revision as of 15:45, 28 July 2022
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- Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2022-07-28). Score information: A4, 3 pages, 95 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes:
General Information
Title: The joyous birds are singing
Composer: Agnes Zimmermann
Lyricist:
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Sacred, Hymn
Language: English
Instruments: Keyboard
First published:
Description:
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
1 The joyous birds are singing
To welcome in the day,
The fairest buds are springing
To hail the coming May,
While yet the morn is new,
Come, maidens, to the bowers,
Before the falling dew
Has dried upon the flowers.
2 Quick cull the early roses
In all their glowing bloom,
The jasmine, which discloses
Its fragrant rich perfume,
With all the buds of Spring
Your blushing garlands twine,
And haste your wreaths to bring,
To deck Our Lady's shrine.
3 Oh thou whose home of splendour
Is in yon starry skies,
The homage which we tender
Receive with pitying eyes,
And from thy cloudless sphere
Of never dying day,
Look on thy children here
Who now before thee pray.