Gerard Manley Hopkins Poems In Musical Adaptations
 
Gerard Manley Hopkins Poems In Musical Adaptations
   

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The Woodlark
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Teevo cheevo cheevio chee:
O where, O where, what can that be?
Weedio-weedio: there again!
So tiny a trickle of a song-strain;
Teevo cheevo cheevio chee:
O where, O where, what can that be?
Weedio-weedio: there again!
So tiny a trickle of a song-strain;

And all around not to be found
For brier, bough, furrow, or green ground
Before or behind or far or at hand
Either left either right
Anywhere in the sunlight.
After all! Ah but hark —
'I am the little woodlark.
The skylark is my cousin and he
Is known to men more than me
Round a ring, around a ring
And while I sail (must listen) I sing
Round a ring, around a ring
And while I sail (must listen) I sing
Teevo cheevo cheevio chee:
O where, O where, what can that be?
Weedio-weedio: there again!
So tiny a trickle of a song-strain;

To-day the sky is two and two
With white strokes and strains of the blue.
The blue wheat-acre is underneath
And the braided ear breaks out of the sheath,
The ear in milk, lush the sash,
And crush-silk poppies aflash,
The blood-gush blade-gash
Flame-rash rudred
Bud shelling or broad-shed
Tatter-tassel-tangled and dingle-a-dangled
Dandy-hung a dainty head.

Round a ring, around a ring
And while I sail (must listen) I sing
Teevo cheevo cheevio chee:
O where, O where, what can that be?
Weedio-weedio: there again!
So tiny a trickle of a song-strain;

And down . . . the furrow dry
Sunspurge and oxeye
And laced-leaved lovely
Foam-tuft fumitory.
I am so very, O so very glad
That I do think there is not to be had
[Anywhere, any more joy to be in.
Cheevio:] when the cry within
Says Go on then I go on
Till the longing is less and the good gone
But down drop, if it says Stop,
To the all-a-leaf of the treetop
And after that off the bough
[Hover-float to the hedge brow.]
Through the velvety wind V-winged
[Where the shake shadow is sun's-eyed-ringed]
To the nest's nook I balance and buoy
With a sweet joy of a sweet joy,
Sweet, of a sweet, of a sweet joy
Of a sweet — a sweet — a sweet — sweet — joy.
Sweet, of a sweet, of a sweet joy
Of a sweet — a sweet — sweet — joy.
Teevo cheevo cheevio chee:
O where, O where, what can that be?
Weedio-weedio: there again!
So tiny a trickle of a song-strain;
Teevo cheevo cheevio chee:
O where, O where, what can that be?
Weedio-weedio: there again!
So tiny a trickle of a song-strain;
Teevo cheevo cheevio chee:
O where, O where, what can that be?
Weedio-weedio: there again!
So tiny a trickle of a song-strain;
Sweet, of a sweet, of a sweet joy
Sweet, of a sweet, of a sweet — sweet — joy.
Sweet, of a sweet, of a sweet — sweet — joy.
Sweet, of a sweet, of a sweet — sweet — joy.
Of a sweet — a sweet — sweet — joy.'

 
© Sean O'Leary 2005-2012
 
O R I G I N A L    P O E M
 

The Woodlark

Teevo cheevo cheevio chee:
O where, what can that be?
Weedio-weedio: there again!
So tiny a trickle of song-strain;
And all round not to be found
For brier, bough, furrow, or green ground
Before or behind or far or at hand
Either left either right
Anywhere in the sunlight.
Well, after all! Ah but hark —
‘I am the little woodlark.
The skylark is my cousin and he
Is known to men more than me
Round a ring, around a ring
And while I sail (must listen) I sing
To-day the sky is two and two
With white strokes and strains of the blue.
The blue wheat-acre is underneath
And the braided ear breaks out of the sheath,
The ear in milk, lush the sash,
And crush-silk poppies aflash,
The blood-gush blade-gash
Flame-rash rudred
Bud shelling or broad-shed
Tatter-tassel-tangled and dingle-a-dangled
Dandy-hung dainty head.
And down … the furrow dry
Sunspurge and oxeye
And laced-leaved lovely
Foam-tuft fumitory.
I am so very, O so very glad
That I do think there is not to be had
[Anywhere, any more joy to be in.
Cheevio:] when the cry within
Says Go on then I go on
Till the longing is less and the good gone
But down drop, if it says Stop,
To the all-a-leaf of the treetop
And after that off the bough
[Hover-float to the hedge brow.]
Through the velvety wind V-winged
[Where the shaked shadow is sun’s-eyed-ringed]
To the nest’s nook I balance and buoy
With a sweet joy of a sweet joy,
Sweet, of a sweet, of a sweet joy
Of a sweet — a sweet — a sweet — sweet — joy.

 
Gerard Manley Hopkins