more from
Cantaloupe Music
We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.
/
  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Includes unlimited streaming of Frederic Rzewski: no place to go but around via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    Purchasable with gift card

      $20 USD or more 

     

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    signed by pianist and vocalist Lisa Moore

    Includes unlimited streaming of Frederic Rzewski: no place to go but around via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    Purchasable with gift card

      $50 USD or more 

     

about

This is a song for the 1650 poem by the Reverend Andrew Marvell - a verse that uses one of the most concise carpe diem arguments ever. With a special tender poignancy and fluency, Frederic Rzewski sets it like a madrigal, for a pianist to sing.

lyrics

The poem lyrics: To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell (1621-78)

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way,
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find;
I by the tide of Humber would complain.
I would love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Then languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun stand still,
Yet we will make him run.

credits

from Frederic Rzewski: no place to go but around, released June 24, 2022
audio: Nick Lloyd, Firehouse12
video: Lisa Moore

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Lisa Moore New York, New York

Lisa Moore is an Aussie-New Yorker pianist with 10 solo CDs (Cantaloupe, IGM, Tall Poppies, Orange Mountain) & 40 ensemble CDs (Sony, Nonesuch, DG, BMG, New World, ABC Classics, Albany, New Albion, Starkland, Harmonia Mundi). Lisa has performed with London Sinfonietta, Steve Reich Ens, Bang On A Can All-Stars, NYC Ballet, Australian Chamber Orch, Grand Band, Ensemble Signal. ... more

contact / help

Contact Lisa Moore

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this track or account

If you like Lisa Moore, you may also like: