1. Spring
Language:
English
Authorship
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Sound the Flute!
Now [it's]1 mute.
Birds delight
Day and Night;
Nightingale
In the dale,
Lark in Sky,
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily,
To welcome in the Year.
Little Boy,
Full of Joy;
Little Girl,
Sweet and small;
Cock does crow,
So do you;
Merry voice,
Infant noise;
Merrily, Merrily,
To welcome in the Year.
Little Lamb,
Here I am;
Come and [lick
My white neck;]2
Let me pull
Your soft Wool;
Let me kiss
Your soft face;
Merrily, Merrily,
[We]3 welcome in the Year.
View text without footnotes
1 MacNutt: "'tis"
2 MacNutt: "play/ Hours away"
3 MacNutt: "To"
2. The lamb
Language:
English
Authorship
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Available translations (or transliterations, if applicable):
RUS
Russian
[singable]
(Dmitri Nikolaevich Smirnov)
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life, and [bid]1 thee feed,
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee:
He is callèd by thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild:
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are callèd by His name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
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1 MacNutt: "bade"
Input by Ted Perry
3. The fly
Language:
English
Authorship
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Available translations (or transliterations, if applicable):
RUS
Russian
[singable]
(Dmitri Nikolaevich Smirnov)
FRE
French
(Guy Laffaille)
Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brush'd away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance
And drink & sing:
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life
And strength & breath
And the want
Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.
4. The tiger
Language:
English
Authorship
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Available translations (or transliterations, if applicable):
GER
German
(Walter A. Aue)
RUS
Russian
[singable]
(Dmitri Nikolaevich Smirnov)
FRE
French
(Guy Laffaille)
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
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