O Thou Whose Face Hath Felt the Winter's Wind | 2013
– 3'40"
Baritone voice and piano
In both O Thou Whose Face Hath Felt the Winter's Wind and On the Sea, I approached setting the text in a somewhat unorthodox manner. I attempted to notate the exact pitches and rhythm of myself speaking the poem. I then took this raw musical line and conformed it to relevant time signatures. I used this musical material as a basis for the two pieces, and often used it directly for melodic (and sometimes harmonic) material. Unlike When I Have Fears..., these poems are more abstract.
O Thou Whose Face Hath Felt the Winter's Wind
O thou whose face hath felt the winter's wind,
Whose eye has seen the snow clouds hung in mist,
And the black-elm tops 'mong the freezing stars,
To thee the spring will be a harvest-time.
O thou whose only book has been the light
Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on
Night after night, when Phœbus was away,
To thee the spring shall be a triple morn.
O fret not after knowledge-- I have none,
And yet my song comes native with the warmth;
O fret not after knowledge-- I have none,
And yet the evening listens. He who saddens
At thought of idleness cannot be idle,
And he's awake who thinks himself asleep.
- John Keats (1818)
Jonathan Wall, baritone; Dr. Devon Howard, piano
Baritone voice and piano
In both O Thou Whose Face Hath Felt the Winter's Wind and On the Sea, I approached setting the text in a somewhat unorthodox manner. I attempted to notate the exact pitches and rhythm of myself speaking the poem. I then took this raw musical line and conformed it to relevant time signatures. I used this musical material as a basis for the two pieces, and often used it directly for melodic (and sometimes harmonic) material. Unlike When I Have Fears..., these poems are more abstract.
O Thou Whose Face Hath Felt the Winter's Wind
O thou whose face hath felt the winter's wind,
Whose eye has seen the snow clouds hung in mist,
And the black-elm tops 'mong the freezing stars,
To thee the spring will be a harvest-time.
O thou whose only book has been the light
Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on
Night after night, when Phœbus was away,
To thee the spring shall be a triple morn.
O fret not after knowledge-- I have none,
And yet my song comes native with the warmth;
O fret not after knowledge-- I have none,
And yet the evening listens. He who saddens
At thought of idleness cannot be idle,
And he's awake who thinks himself asleep.
- John Keats (1818)
Jonathan Wall, baritone; Dr. Devon Howard, piano
Derrada R. Rubell-Asbell, baritone; Taiko Pelick, piano