| Elegy
Prelude (Soprano and String Quartet) |
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The
souls of the slain, a dim discerned train of sprites without
mold; frameless souls none might touch or might hold. I knew
them for the souls of the felled, on earth's netherbord,
under Capricorn, whither they'd warred, And I heard in my
awe and gave heedfulness with breathings inheld. Then it
seemed there appeared from the northward a senior soul flame
of the like filmy hue. And he met them and spake: "Is it
you, 0 my men?" |
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Said they, "Ayel We bear
homeward and hearthward to feast on our fame."
"I've flown there before you" he
said. "Your households are well, but your kin linger less on
your glory and war-mightiness than on dearer things." |
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"Dearer!" cried they then - "Of what do
they tell?" |
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Prologue (Men and Boys) |
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Men:
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L'homme arms dolt on douter |
Boys:
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Quis fuit
horrendos primus |
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(Beware of the Soldier) |
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(Who was he who first discovered) |
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On a fait partout crier |
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Qui protulit enses, (the horrid
sword) |
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(he brings evil to all) |
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quam ferus et vere fereus ille
fuit |
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Que chacun se viengu' armer |
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(How savage and truly made of
iron he was.) |
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(You should arm yourself) |
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Tum caedes hominum generi turn
proelie nata. |
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D'un haubregon de fer. |
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(Then bloodshed and battles were
born into the human race.) |
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(with irons against him) |
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Turn brevior dirge mortis aperta
via est. |
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(Then a shorter way was opened for fearful death.) |
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Elegy Interlude (Soprano and String Quartet) |
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"Some mothers muse sadly, and
murmur your doings as boys; recall
the quaint ways of your babyhood's innocent joys." |
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Songs of Innocence -
"Infant Joy" (Boys Choir) |
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I have no name. I am but two days old. |
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What shall I call thee? |
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I happy am, joy is my name. |
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Sweet joy befall thee, pretty boy, |
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Sweet joy but two days old. |
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Sweet joy I call thee. Thou dost smile. |
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I sing the
while, sweet joy befall thee. |
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Songs of War - "War is Sacred" (Bass Solo and Men's Choir) |
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War is sacred a divine institution. |
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It fosters every lofty and noble sentiment in the human
heart. |
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Solo: |
A soldier is Christ's
warrior and as such he should regard
himself, and so he should behave. |
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War is sacred. . . . . . . |
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Solo:
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Always attack, never defend;
only when he is beaten who is afraid. If your
bayonet
breaks, strike with the stock;
if the stock breaks, hit with your fists; if your
fists are hurt,bite with your teeth. Only he wins who fights
desperately to the death. |
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War is sacred. . . . . . . |
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Solo: |
Remember, God defends the brave. Where the bold
one will get through, God will trip up the
timid one. For the good soldier there are no flanks, nor
rear, but all is front where the foe is. |
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War is sacred. . . . . . . |
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Solo: |
Pray to God. From him is the victory. God leads
you. He's your general. Obedience! Discipline!
Cleanliness! Health! Glory! Glory! Glory! |
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Elegy Interlude (Soprano and String Quartet) |
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"Now tell us - how hold out our sweethearts, sworn loyal as
doves?" |
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"Many mourn. Many think it is not
unattractive to prink them in sables
for heroes. Some fickle and fleet
hearts have found them new loves." |
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Songs of Innocence - "The Grasshopper and Cricket" (Boys
Choir) |
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When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, |
On a
lone winter evening, when the frost |
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and hide in the cooling trees, |
has wrought |
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A voice will run from hedge to hedge, about the |
A silence from the stove, there shrills the |
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new-mown mead. |
cricket's song. |
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That is the grasshopper, hopper, hopper . . . . . |
In
warmth increasing ever, and seems to one, |
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He takes the lead in summer luxuries; |
in drowsiness
half lost. |
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He has never done with his delights, |
The grasshopper,
hopper . . . . . . . among some |
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for when tired out with sun he rests at ease |
grassy
hills. |
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beneath some pleasant weed. |
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Songs of War - "War is Kind" (Tenor Solo and Men's Choir) |
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Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment, |
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Little souls who thirst for fight, |
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There men were born to drill and die. |
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The unexplained glory flies above them, |
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Great is the battle god. Great! |
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And his kingdom, a field where a thousand corpses
lie. |
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Solo: |
Do not weep babe, for
war is kind. |
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Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches, |
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Raged at his breast, gulped and died. |
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Do
not weep -- war is kind. |
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Elegy Interlude (Soprano and String Quartet) |
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"And our wives?" quoth another resignedly; "Dwell they on our
deeds?" |
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"Deeds of home that live yet,
fresh as new. Deeds of fondness or
fret; ancient words, kindly
expressed or unkindly. These, these
have their deeds." |
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(War is Kind) |
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Swift, blazing flag of the regiment! |
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Eagle with crest of red and gold. |
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These men were born to drill and die. |
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Point for them the virtue of slaughter, |
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Make plain for them the excellence of killing, |
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And a field where a thousand corpses lie. |
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Solo: |
Do not weep dear - for
war is kind. |
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Your mother whose heart hung humble as a button on
the bright, splendid shroud of your son, |
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Do not weep - war is kind. |
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Songs of Innocence - "Blossom" (Boys Choir) |
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Songs of War - "A War Prayer" (Men's Choir) |
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Merry, merry sparrow under leaves so green, |
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A happy blossom sees you, swift as an arrow, |
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Seek your cradle
narrow near my bosom. |
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Pretty, pretty robin, under leaves so green, |
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A happy blossom hears you sobbing |
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Pretty, pretty robin, near my bosom. |
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Men: |
Help us to tear their
soldiers to shreds with our shells. |
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Help us to lay waste
their humble homes with a
hurricane of fire. |
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Help us to turn their
widows out roofless with
their little children. |
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For our sakes who adore
thee Lord, blast their
hopes, blight their lives,
make heavy their steps. |
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We ask it in
the spirit of love of him
who is the source of love.
Amen. |
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Elegy Interlude (Soprano and
String Quartet) |
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A father broods: |
"Would I had set him to some humble trade, |
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And so slacked his high
fire and his passionate martial
desire; |
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And told him no stories, to woo him and whet
him, |
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To this dire crusade." |
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Songs of Innocence - "Maying"
(Boys Choir) |
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Now is the month of maying when merry lads are
playing, |
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Each with his bonny lass, upon the greeny
grass, |
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Fa, la, la, la. . . . . . . . |
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The spring clad all in gladness doth laugh at
winter's sadness, |
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And to the bagpipes sound the nymphs
tread out their ground, |
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Fa, la, la, la. . . . . . . . |
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Fie, Then why sit we, sit we musing, while youth's
delight refusing, |
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Say
dainty nymphs and speak, shall we now play barley
break? |
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The spring clad all in.
. . . . . . . |
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| Elegy Interlude
(Soprano
and String Quartet) |
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Alas! Then it
seems that our glory weighs less in their thought |
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Than our old homely acts and the long ago common
place facts of our lives, |
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Held by us as scarce part of
our story, and rated as nought. |
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Songs of War - "The Man and the Angel"
(Men's Choir) |
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"It was wrong to do this" said the angel, "You
should live like a flower. |
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Holding malice like the puppies,
waging war like the Iambkins." |
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"Not so" quoth the man, who had no fear of
spirits. |
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"It is only wrong for angels, who can live like the
flowers, |
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Holding malice
like the puppies, waging war like the lambkins." |
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Songs of Innocence - "Little Lamb"
(Boys Choir) |
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Little lamb, who made thee, dost thou know who made
thee, |
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Gave thee life and bid thee feed by the streams o'er
the mead, |
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Gave thee clothing of delight, softest
clothing wooly bright, |
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Gave thee such a tender voice, you made the vales
rejoice, all rejoice |
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Little lamb, who made thee, doest
thou know who made thee? |
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Little lamb, I'll tell thee. He is called by thy
name, |
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For he calls himself a lamb, he is meek and mild, he
became a child. |
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I a child and thou a lamb. We are called by his
name. |
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Little lamb, God bless thee. |
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Songs of War - "Here, where a thousand captains"
(Men's Choir) |
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Here, where a thousand captains |
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Swore grand conquest, |
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Tall grass now
is their monument. |
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Epilogue
(Men and Boys) |
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Men:
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L'homme
arms doit on douter |
Boys:
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Interea pax arva
colat. |
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(Beware of the soldier) |
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(Let
peace meanwhile cultivate our fields) |
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On a fait partout crier |
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Pax candida primum |
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(he brings evil to all) |
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(Fair peace first) |
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Clue chacun se viengu' armer |
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Duxit araturos sub
jugs curve boves |
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(You should arm yourself) |
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(led
the oxen to plough the fields under the curved yoke) |
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D'un haubregon de fer. |
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Pax
aluit vites et sucos condidit uvae, |
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(with irons against him.) |
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(Peace
nourished the vines and stored the grape-juice) |
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Funderet ut
nato
testa
paterna
m e r u
m; |
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(So that wine might pour from the
father's pitcher into
the son's) |
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Pace bidens vomerque
nitent, |
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(In
time of peace the hoe and the ploughshare are
resplendent,) |
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at
tristia duri (but rust lays hold of) |
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militia
in tenebris occupat arms titus. |
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(the grim weapons of
the rough soldier in the dark.) |
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Prayer
(Soprano and String Quartet) |
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Lord,
make me an instrument of thy peace. |
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Where
there is injury, let me sow pardon, |
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Where there is
doubt, faith, |
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Darkness,
light. |
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Where
there is sadness, joy. |
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We a s k
it in the
spirit of love, |
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Of him
who is the source of love. |
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Amen. |
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BEWARE OF THE SOLDIER
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Elegy Prelude - "The Souls of the Slain" -
(Thomas Hardy) |
Songs of Innocence - "Blossom" -
(William Blake) |
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Prologue - |
"L'Homme arme" -
(14th Century - Anon.) Men's Choir
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Songs of War - "A War Prayer - (Mark Twain) |
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"Against War" -
(Latin from Tibullus) Boys Choir |
Songs of Innocence - "Maying" -- (Elizabethan - Anon.) |
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Elegy Interlude - "The Souls of the Slain" |
Elegy Interlude - "The Souls of the Slain" |
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Songs of Innocence - "Infant Joy" - (William
Blake) |
Songs of War -- "The Man and the Angel" - (William Blake) |
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Songs of War - "War
is Sacred" - (Quoted
from a
speech
by a Russian Army
General in Tolsoy's 'On
Civil Disobedience') |
Songs of Innocence - "Little Lamb" -
(William Blake) |
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Elegy Interlude - "The Souls of the Slain" |
Songs of War -- "Here where a thousand captain's swore
great conquest" -
(Haiku) |
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Songs of Innocence -- "The Grasshopper and Cricket" - (John Keats) |
Epilogue
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"L'Homme arms" - (14th Century - Anon.) Men's Choir |
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Songs of War - "War is
Kind" -
(Stephen Crane) |
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"Against War" -
(Latin from Tibullus) Boys.Choir |
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(with Elegy Interlude between verses I and
Il) |
Prayer -
(from
St. Francis and Mark Twain) |
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CRI SD 341 |
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MUSIC BY GREGG SMITH |
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COMPOSERS
RECORDINGS, INC. |
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170 West 74th Street, New York, N.Y. 10023 |
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