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"As a Fowl" - live premieres from Sep 5, 2014 at the Center for New Music

by Kyle Hovatter

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1.
Her head hung down Gazed at earth, finally keen, As the rabbit at the stoat, Till the earth was sky, Sky that was green, And brown clouds passed Like chestnut leaves along the ground.
2.
As a fowl in the tall grass lies Beneath the terror of the hawk, The tressed white light crept Whispering with hand on mouth mysterious Hunting the leaping shadows in straight streets By the white house of Flemish towns
3.
LIGHTHEARTED I walked into the valley wood In the time of hyacinths, Till beauty like a scented cloth Cast over, stifled me. I was bound Motionless and faint of breath By loveliness that is her own eunuch. Now pass I the final river Ignominiously, in a sack, without a sound, As any peeping Turk to the Bosphorous.
4.
Strange to me the sounds the wind that blows By the masthead in the lonely night. Maybe 'tis the sea whistling--feigning joy To hide its fright Like a village boy That, shivering, past the churchyard goes.
5.
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white, Robins will wear their feathery fire Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone. Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
6.
The Eagle and the Mole by Elinor Wylie Avoid the reeking herd, Shun the polluted flock, Live like that stoic bird, The eagle of the rock. The huddled warmth of crowds Begets and fosters hate; He keeps above the clouds His cliff inviolate. When flocks are folded warm, And herds to shelter run, He sails above the storm, He stares into the sun. If in the eagle's track Your sinews cannot leap, Avoid the lathered pack, Turn from the steaming sheep. If you would keep your soul From spotted sight or sound, Live like the velvet mole: Go burrow underground. And there hold intercourse With roots of trees and stones, With rivers at their source, And disembodied bones.
7.
Atavism by Elinor Wylie I was always afraid of Somes's Pond: Not the little pond, by which the willow stands, Where laughing boys catch alewives in their hands In brown, bright shallows; but the one beyond. There, where the frost makes all the birches burn Yellow as cow-lilies, and the pale sky shines Like a polished shell between black spruce and pines, Some strange thing tracks us, turning where we turn. !You'll say I dreamed it, being the true daughter Of those who in old times endured this dread. Look! Where the lily-stems are showing red A silent paddle moves below the water, A sliding shape has stirred them like a breath; Tall plumes surmount a painted mask of death.
8.
Village Mystery (excerpt) by Elinor Wylie I saw the dead girl cringe and whine, And cower in the weeping air-- But, oh, she was no kin of mine, And so I did not care!

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released September 30, 2014

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