I. Alone
I am alone, in spite of love,
In spite of all I take and give —
In spite of all your tenderness,
Sometimes I am not glad to live.
I am alone, as though I stood
On the highest peak of the tired gray world,
About me only swirling snow,
Above me, endless space unfurled;
With earth hidden and heaven hidden,
And only my own spirit’s pride
To keep me from the peace of those
Who are not lonely, having died.
II. Spring Torrents
Will it always be like this until I am dead,
Every spring must I bear it all again
With the first red haze of the budding maple boughs,
And the first sweet-smelling rain?
Oh I am like a rock in the rising river
Where the flooded water breaks with a low call —
Like a rock that knows the cry of the waters
And cannot answer at all.
III. Twilight
Dreamily over the roofs
The cold spring rain is falling;
Out in the lonely tree
A bird is calling, calling.
Slowly over the earth
The wings of night are falling;
My heart like the bird in the tree
Is calling, calling, calling.
IV. The Ghost
I went back to the clanging city,
I went back where my old loves stayed,
But my heart was full of my new love’s glory,
My eyes were laughing and unafraid.
I met one who had loved me madly
And told his love for all to hear —
But we talked of a thousand things together,
The past was buried too deep to fear.
I met the other, whose love was given
With never a kiss and scarcely a word —
Oh, it was then the terror took me
Of words unuttered that breathed and stirred.
Oh, love that lives its life with laughter
Or love that lives its life with tears
Can die — but love that is never spoken
Goes like a ghost through the winding years. . . .
I went back to the clanging city,
I went back where my old loves stayed,
My heart was full of my new love’s glory, —
But my eyes were suddenly afraid.
V. Peace
Peace flows into me
As the tide to the pool by the shore;
It is mine forevermore,
It will not ebb like the sea.
I am the pool of blue
That worships the vivid sky;
My hopes were heaven-high,
They are all fulfilled in you.
I am the pool of gold
When sunset burns and dies —
You are my deepening skies;
Give me your stars to hold.
VI. Joy
I am wild, I will sing to the trees,
I will sing to the stars in the sky,
I love, I am loved, he is mine,
Now at last I can die!
I am sandaled with wind and with flame,
I have heart-fire and singing to give,
I can tread on the grass or the stars,
Now at last I can live!
VII. New Love and Old
In my heart the old love
Struggled with the new;
It was ghostly waking
All night through.
Dear things, kind things,
That my old love said,
Ranged themselves reproachfully
Round my bed.
But I could not heed them,
For I seemed to see
The eyes of my new love
Fixed on me.
Old love, old love,
How can I be true?
Shall I be faithless to myself
Or to you?
VIII. Riches
I have no riches but my thoughts,
Yet these are wealth enough for me;
My thoughts of you are golden coins
Stamped in the mint of memory;
And I must spend them all in song,
For thoughts, as well as gold, must be
Left on the hither side of death
To gain their immortality.
IX. Let it be Forgotten
Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold.
Let it be forgotten forever and ever,
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
If anyone asks, say it was forgotten
Long and long ago,
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall
In a long-forgotten snow.
X. Song Making
My heart cried like a beaten child
Ceaselessly all night long;
I had to take my own cries
And thread them into a song.
One was a cry at black midnight
And one when the first cock crew —
My heart was like a beaten child,
But no one ever knew.
Life, you have put me in your debt
And I must serve you long —
But oh, the debt is terrible
That must be paid in song.
– Sara Teasdale
I am lucky to have known Kyle Siddons for many years now. He has graciously performed my songs before, and so when he approached me with a request for a new cycle, I jumped at the opportunity to write for him. Kyle gave me creative license to choose whatever texts I wished. While I knew that I wanted the poems to have a dramatic arc, I was not entirely sure at first whose poetry to set. When I came upon the work of Sara Teasdale, I threw myself into her writings with abandon, entirely engrossed by her sense of directness of language.
In "A Ghost Through the Winding Years", we follow a nameless protagonist as he wrestles with emotions that run the gamut of loneliness, nostalgia, staleness, elation, anxiety, and depression. I aim for a freedom of textual expression throughout the work, often giving the performers liberty to choose specific inflections, phrase direction, and tempo—while at other times I strictly adhere to established formulas. The music is very cyclic and pattern-oriented—almost to a fault. These patterns are finally broken and up-turned by the inclusion of Brahms Intermezzo Op. 119, No. 1. The quotation is used in three instances throughout the cycle: once at the culminating point of catharsis in “Joy”; as an accompaniment for remembered lovers in “Riches”; and as a final sounding token above the ending music.
The music is dedicated gratefully to Joanne Wuest, in honor of her lifelong love and support of music, and it is written for and commissioned by bass-baritone Kyle Siddons.
- Dominick DiOrio
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