Bladmuziek
Uitvoeringen
Partituren
Robert Bilinski, 2026.
Uitgever
Robert Bilinski, 2026.
Overige opmerkingen
DOI
Lyrics from 'A Song' by Thomas Carew (1595–1640):
Ask me no more where Jove bestowes,
When June is past, the fading rose:
For in your beauties orient deep,
These Flowers as in their causes sleep.
Ask me no more whither doe stray
The golden Atomes of the day:
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to inrich your hair.
Ask me no more whither doth hast
The Nightingale, when May is past:
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more where those starres light,
That downward fall in dead of night:
For in your eyes they sit, and there,
Fixed, become as in their sphere.
Ask me no more if East or West,
The Phenix builds her spicy nest:
For unto you at last she flyes,
And in your fragrant bosome dies.
Lyrics from 'A Song' by Thomas Carew (1595–1640):
Ask me no more where Jove bestowes,
When June is past, the fading rose:
For in your beauties orient deep,
These Flowers as in their causes sleep.
Ask me no more whither doe stray
The golden Atomes of the day:
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to inrich your hair.
Ask me no more whither doth hast
The Nightingale, when May is past:
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more where those starres light,
That downward fall in dead of night:
For in your eyes they sit, and there,
Fixed, become as in their sphere.
Ask me no more if East or West,
The Phenix builds her spicy nest:
For unto you at last she flyes,
And in your fragrant bosome dies.
Robert Bilinski, 2026.
Uitgever
Robert Bilinski, 2026.
Overige opmerkingen
DOI
Lyrics from 'A Song' by Thomas Carew (1595–1640):
Ask me no more where Jove bestowes,
When June is past, the fading rose:
For in your beauties orient deep,
These Flowers as in their causes sleep.
Ask me no more whither doe stray
The golden Atomes of the day:
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to inrich your hair.
Ask me no more whither doth hast
The Nightingale, when May is past:
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more where those starres light,
That downward fall in dead of night:
For in your eyes they sit, and there,
Fixed, become as in their sphere.
Ask me no more if East or West,
The Phenix builds her spicy nest:
For unto you at last she flyes,
And in your fragrant bosome dies.
Lyrics from 'A Song' by Thomas Carew (1595–1640):
Ask me no more where Jove bestowes,
When June is past, the fading rose:
For in your beauties orient deep,
These Flowers as in their causes sleep.
Ask me no more whither doe stray
The golden Atomes of the day:
For in pure love heaven did prepare
Those powders to inrich your hair.
Ask me no more whither doth hast
The Nightingale, when May is past:
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more where those starres light,
That downward fall in dead of night:
For in your eyes they sit, and there,
Fixed, become as in their sphere.
Ask me no more if East or West,
The Phenix builds her spicy nest:
For unto you at last she flyes,
And in your fragrant bosome dies.