Lyrics Ned Rorem – Orchids | New Today Lyrics

More Ned Rorem lyrics

Ned Rorem – A Dream of Nightingales | Lyrics
The Friday before your funeral I taught Keats to my sophomore class. Little did they Care for the truth of beauty or the grace of truth But his being “half in love with easeful

Ned Rorem – From whence cometh song? | Lyrics
From whence cometh song? From the tear, far away From the hound giving tongue From the quarry’s weak cry From whence, love? From the dirt in the street From the

Ned Rorem – My Papa’s Waltz | Lyrics
The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf;

Ned Rorem – Early in the Morning | Lyrics
Early in the morning Of a lovely summer day As they lowered the bright awning At the outdoor café I was breakfasting on croissants And café au lait Under greenery like

Ned Rorem – Root Cellar | Lyrics
Nothing would sleep in that cellar, dank as a ditch Bulbs broke out of boxes hunting for chinks in the dark Shoots dangled and drooped Lolling obscenely from mildewed crates Hung

Ned Rorem – Memory | Lyrics
In the slow world of dream We breathe in unison The outside dies within And she knows all I am She turns, as if to go Half-bird, half-animal The wind dies on the

Ned Rorem – To Music, to becalm his Fever | Lyrics
Charm me asleep, and melt me so With thy delicious numbers That, being ravish’d, hence I go Away in easy slumbers Ease my sick head And make my bed Thou power that

Ned Rorem – To daisies, not to shut so soon | Lyrics
Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night Has not as yet begun To make a seizure on the light Or to seal up the sun No marigolds yet closed are; No shadows great appear;

Ned Rorem – To the Willow-tree | Lyrics
Thou art to all lost love the best The only true plant found Where-with young men and maids distrest And left of love, are crown’d When once the lover’s rose is

Ned Rorem – Comfort to a Youth that had lost his Love | Lyrics
What needs complaints When she a place Has with the race Of saints? In endless mirth She thinks not on What ‘s said or done In Earth She sees