August, 2014

You are here: Home - 2014 - August

  • Three Poems by Elinor Wylie (2014) two sopranos, guitar + bassoon

    Score available at Available


    These three poems by Elinor Wylie (1885-1928) can be found in her book “Nets to Catch the Wind”. This set, which was premiered September 5th, 2014 at the Center for New Music in San Francisco, was written specifically for Amy Foote, Danielle(Reutter-Harrah) Sampson, Adam Cockerham, and Alexis Luque.

     [bandcamp width=400 height=406 album=3850627201 size=large bgcol=ffffff linkcol=0687f5 artwork=small]

    The Eagle and the MoleAlexisLuque
    Avoid the reeking herd,
    Shun the polluted flock,
    Live like that stoic bird,
    The eagle of the rock.

    The huddled warmth of crowds
    Begets and fosters hate;
    He keeps above the clouds
    His cliff inviolate.

    When flocks are folded warm,
    And herds to shelter run,
    He sails above the storm,
    He stares into the sun.

    If in the eagle’s track
    Your sinews cannot leap,
    Avoid the lathered pack,
    Turn from the steaming sheep.Jarring Sounds_0.eventdetail

    If you would keep your soul
    From spotted sight or sound,
    Live like the velvet mole:
    Go burrow underground.

    And there hold intercourse
    With roots of trees and stones,
    With rivers at their source,
    And disembodied bones.

    I was always afraid of Somes’s Pond:
    Not the little pond, by which the willow stands,
    Where laughing boys catch alewives in their hands
    In brown, bright shallows; but the one beyond.
    There, where the frost makes all the birches burn
    Yellow as cow-lilies, and the pale sky shines
    Like a polished shell between black spruce and pines,
    Some strange thing tracks us, turning where we turn.

    You’ll say I dreamed it, being the true daughter
    Of those who in old times endured this dread.
    Look! Where the lily-stems are showing red
    A silent paddle moves below the water,
    A sliding shape has stirred them like a breath;
    Tall plumes surmount a painted mask of death.

    Village Mystery (excerpt)
    I saw the dead girl cringe and whine,
    And cower in the weeping air–
    But, oh, she was no kin of mine,
    And so I did not care!


  • Four Poems by T. E. Hulme (2014) soprano + theorbo

    Written for and premiered by Jarring Sounds –

    The Theorbo is notated with fretted strings on the treble clef and open strings on the bass clef.

    Score Available – USD $15Download-PDF-Button


    [bandcamp width=400 height=406 album=3850627201 size=large bgcol=ffffff linkcol=0687f5 artwork=small]

    Susan Ann and Immortality
    Her head hung down
    Gazed at earth, finally keen,
    As the rabbit at the stoat,
    Till the earth was sky,
    Sky that was green,
    And brown clouds passed
    Like chestnut leaves along the ground.

    As a Fowl
    As a fowl in the tall grass lies
    Beneath the terror of the hawk,
    The tressed white light crept
    Whispering with hand on mouth mysterious
    Hunting the leaping shadows in straight streets
    By the white house of Flemish towns

    Jarring Sounds_0.eventdetailConversion
    LIGHTHEARTED I walked into the valley wood
    In the time of hyacinths,
    Till beauty like a scented cloth
    Cast over, stifled me.
    I was bound Motionless and faint of breath
    By loveliness that is her own eunuch.
    Now pass I the final river
    Ignominiously, in a sack, without a sound,
    As any peeping Turk to the Bosphorous.

    Strange to me the sounds the wind that blows
    By the masthead in the lonely night.
    Maybe ’tis the sea whistling–feigning joy
    To hide its fright
    Like a village boy
    That, shivering, past the churchyard goes.

Back to top