A Poet's Home
A Poet’s Home
Written for a wind symphony, this piece closely follows the poem of the same name written by Charles Harpur (1813-1868). The poem is a day in the life of the poet, from pre-dawn early light through to a starry evening moon rise. You will hear bird calls along with their fluttering flight, the trickling rill, leaves stirring, insect hums, soil being tilled, a noonday rest, maybe even smell the orchard fruit, see the sun setting and the stars slowly appearing before the moon rise, all enhanced through the lens of love.
Here in this lonely rill-engirdled spot,
The world forgetting, by the world forgot,
With one vowed to me with beloved lips
How sweet to draw, as hiddenly from time,
As from its rocks yon shaded fountain slips,
My yet remaining prime.......
....And while the clouds imbibed a golden hue,
And purple streaks grained yon ethereal blue,
By the glad voice of every early bird
(As some full lake by breezes in their glee
Is rippled into smiles) how sweetly stirred
My spirit then should be!.....
...So should the noon draw on: when in yon shade
Beside the rill, on the green herbage laid
In careless luxury my faint limbs should be,
And hearing but the splash of feathered things
Then fluttering downward from some neighbouring tree
To dip their shining wings,...
