Music

So I'm kind of in love with music

"Something Told the Wild Geese"

Something told the wild geese it was time to go
Though the fields lay golden something whispered snow
Leaves were green and stirring
Berries luster glossed
But beneath warm feathers something cautioned something cautioned frost

All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice
But each wild breast stiffened at remembered Ice

Something told the wild geese it was time to fly
Summer sun was on their wings
Winter, winter, winter in their cry


I love this song. I sang it in the choir I sang with in middle school. I've been thinking of it lately, trying to remember the tune during the orchards and remembered ice. I've been humming it lately along with


"Carol of Joy"

Green leaves all fallen, withered and dry;
Brief sunset fading, dim winter sky.
Lengthening shadows, Dark closing in…
Then, through the stillness, carols begin!

Oh fallen world, to you is the song—
Death holds you fast and night tarries long.
Jesus is born, your curse to destroy!
Sweet to your ears, a carol of Joy!

Pale moon ascending, solemn and slow;
Cold barren hillside, shrouded in snow;
Deep, empty valley veiled by the night;
Hear angel music—hopeful and bright!

Oh fearful world, to you is the song—
Peace with your God, and pardon for wrong!
Tidings for sinners, burdened and bound—
A carol of joy! A Saviour is found!

Earth wrapped in sorrow, lift up your eyes!
Thrill to the chorus filling the skies!
Look up sad hearted—witness God’s love!
Join in the carol swelling above!

Oh friendless world, to you is the song!
All Heaven’s joy to you may belong!
You who are lonely, laden, forlorn—
Oh fallen world! Oh friendless world!
To you,
A Saviour is born!

Hearing this song in my inner ear is more powerful than any song I have ever sung. The beginning makes me think of families. Mothers and daughters and lovers and children; our tender ones crying out in pain at the death of a loved one. And then, oh the glory of the sound, the sound of hope that rises up above the earth to caress the heart of God. The thought of the same voices that moments ago have lamented and wailed are now listening to the angels sing in all their glory, proclaiming joy. It is truly magnificent.

The sky is a pale gray today. The wind that comes in through the window is cold. Bare branches shoot out into the pure gray. (String Quartet No. 3 in D Major, Op.44/1: II. Menuetto: Un Poco Allegr) Ghosts of images are building in my mind. Swimming around this music. It takes shape in my inner eye. A white stag. Antlers tall and majestic. He stands in a valley. The sky above him is filled with low brooding clouds that cut the surrounding mountains in half. The grass beneath him is dead with frost. He turns and begins to make the climb up. Soon he is there. He disappears in the clouds that cling so tightly to the mountains.