(For information regarding my Shakespeare Lectures: georgewalllectures@gmail.com)

Friday, March 18, 2011

In Stephen Sondheim's excellent new book entitled, Finishing the Hat (2010), he delineates some of the aesthetic principles that guide his work. Some of these have to do with the differences between poetry and lyric writing, and over the next couple of posts I'm going to see if they apply to Shakespeare's songs, as well. My hunch is that they do, but we'll see. In any event, Shakespeare's songs are often considered as some of the most beautiful to have been written in the language, and I'm looking forward to seeing if I can learn something about the concepts that went into their composition by comparing them with Sondheim's approach. It'll take a bit of time, but I'll try to get it done in the next few days, if I can. In the meantime, for your consideration, here's the song that closes Love's Labour's Lost:

SPRING.
When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he: Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he: Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
WINTER.
When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail
And Tom bears logs into the hall
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl: Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow
And coughing drowns the parson's saw
And birds sit brooding in the snow
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl: Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

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