If You Forget Me, (Cycle of Extractable Works)
I. Alone (4.5 minutes)
II. First Love (4.5 minutes)
III. If You Forget Me (in progress)
Duration: 9 minutes
bar, s, fl, vln, pno
From childhood’s hour I have not been, As others were—I have not seen, As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common spring—From the same source I have not taken My sorrow—I could not awakenMy heart to joy at the same tone—And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—Then—in my childhood—in the dawn Of a most stormy life—was drawn From ev’ry depth of good and illThe mystery which binds me still—From the torrent, or the fountain—From the red cliff of the mountain— From the sun that ’round me roll’d In its autumn tint of gold—From the lightning in the sky As it pass’d me flying by— From the thunder, and the storm— And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view.
- Edgar Allen Poe
At his incipient sun,The ice of twenty winters broke, Crackling, in her eyes. Her mirroring, still mind, That held the world (made double) calm, Went fluid, and it ran. There was a stir of music, Mixed with flowers, in her blood; A swift impulsive balm, From obscure roots; Gold bees of clinging light, Swarmed in her brow. Her throat is full of songs, She hums, she is sensible of wings. Growing on her heart. She is a tree in spring. Trembling with the hope of leaves, Of which the leaves are tongues.