She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with
pity: and when winter evenings fall early read more

She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with
pity: and when winter evenings fall early (sitting at her merry
wheel), she sings a defiance to the giddy wheel of
fortune . . . and fears no manner of ill because she means none.

All this for a song.

All this for a song.

A song of hate is a song of Hell;
Some there be who sing it well.
Let read more

A song of hate is a song of Hell;
Some there be who sing it well.
Let them sing it loud and long,
We lift our hearts in a loftier song:
We life our hearts to Heaven above,
Singing the glory of her we love,
England.

The song is ended / But the melody lingers on.

The song is ended / But the melody lingers on.

You must pass your days in song. Let your whole life be a song.

You must pass your days in song. Let your whole life be a song.

I had wanted to say that my song was far too painful to sing.

I had wanted to say that my song was far too painful to sing.

Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
read more

Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.
Come, but one verse.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
read more

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Everything ends with songs.
[Fr., Tout finit par des chansons.]

Everything ends with songs.
[Fr., Tout finit par des chansons.]