Friday, 31 August 2012
The Long Day Closes
Been in a strange mood lately. Doesn't help that the weather's strange too.
Couldn't get to sleep some nights ago - I found my thoughts fluttering all over: some kind of overload yet it's not so concrete and I don't know how to express it. The only thing that was constant during that hours of consciousness as I lay on my bed was the looping of the song: 'The Long Day Closes', text written by Henry Chorley, set into music by Arthur Sullivan in 1868.
The Long Day Closes
No star is o'er the lake,
Its pale watch keeping,
The moon is half awake,
Through gray mist creeping,
The last red leaves fall round
The porch of roses,
The clock hath ceased to sound,
The long day closes.
Sit by the silent hearth
in calm endeavour,
To count the sounds of mirth,
Now dumb for ever.
Heed not how hope believes
And fate disposes:
Shadow is round the eaves,
The long day closes.
The lighted windows dim
Are fading slowly.
The fire that was so trim
Now quivers lowly.
Go to the dreamless bed
Where grief reposes;
Thy book of toil is read,
The long day closes.
The idea of death, though never explicitly mentioned, is vividly represented in the many simple incidents that happen in everyday life. The recurring image of something ending is unmistakeable. Perhaps that is why it strikes a resonant chord within me.
Particularly haunting is the amazing work Sullivan has done in capturing the essence in the music, which admittedly is the stronger reason why this song appeals to me:
The first phrase starts off with subtle differences and changes in its harmony, ultimately resolving to a different chord on and emphasizing 'pale'. And that is the first word that really sinks into the listener.
When it comes to 'the long day closes' for the first time, it is markedly given a longer 'airtime' as compared to all other previous phrases where the words keep moving. And that plays up the kind of anticipation that has been building up, culminating in the feeling that finally the day is closing.
The cycle then repeats, with the familiar musical starting of the phrase 'Sit by the silent hearth' as we are invited to sit by a fireplace, as though preparing to hear a story. What we are subsequently presented with is very different from what we experienced in the first stanza - we first note the difference (in chord harmony and dynamics) at 'now dumb for ever', immediately followed by the almost garish 'warning' of 'Heed not now hope believes and fate disposes'; this presumably alludes to the fact that life will go through its fair share of ups and downs, 'mirths' and 'nots', before it (or rather, but eventually still) comes to an end as the long day closes.
The music for the third stanza is set in an overlapping style, pushing the song (and life) forward as it gains impetus and momentum as it gets caught up in itself, until it finds itself quivering lowly. That somehow brings to mind a picture of old age. And it is then that we end up on the dreamless bed. A bed which its user will never dream. A bed that is devoid of all consciousness and subconsciousness. A bed where death is fully borne.
And in a last attempt to mourn and remember the dead, we so often gather everyone at this dreamless bed, where eulogies after eulogies are read out, where one's book of toil is read over and over again. The music spends a third of its time just on these last 4 lines of the poem - highly disproportionate in terms of its physical place in the poem. Yet, it is loaded with such emotional significance it cannot be emphasized more.
And only then, finally, the long day closes.
----------
Honestly, I didn't set out to analyse the music in such detail. I merely wanted to give some details on why it was particularly haunting for me. (and the analysis above, if you can call it an analysis, is lacking in many respects and incomplete and unelaborated on many counts, but deliberately so)
On that night as I lay on my bed, the song was looping in my head in the form of these few lines:
'No star is o'er the lake, its pale watch keeping, the moon is half awake, through gray mist creeping, the last red leaves fall round the porch of roses, the clock hath ceased to sound, the long... day... clo...ses...
Go to the dreamless bed where grief reposes, thy book of toil is read, the long day closes... the long day closes...'
Perhaps I was seeking to find closure in some items, or to find some conclusion. Or to find some answers.
Perhaps, it's time to close a chapter and move on.
Perhaps, it's more of being able to let go.
Perhaps, it's time for the long day to close...
Couldn't get to sleep some nights ago - I found my thoughts fluttering all over: some kind of overload yet it's not so concrete and I don't know how to express it. The only thing that was constant during that hours of consciousness as I lay on my bed was the looping of the song: 'The Long Day Closes', text written by Henry Chorley, set into music by Arthur Sullivan in 1868.
The Long Day Closes
No star is o'er the lake,
Its pale watch keeping,
The moon is half awake,
Through gray mist creeping,
The last red leaves fall round
The porch of roses,
The clock hath ceased to sound,
The long day closes.
Sit by the silent hearth
in calm endeavour,
To count the sounds of mirth,
Now dumb for ever.
Heed not how hope believes
And fate disposes:
Shadow is round the eaves,
The long day closes.
The lighted windows dim
Are fading slowly.
The fire that was so trim
Now quivers lowly.
Go to the dreamless bed
Where grief reposes;
Thy book of toil is read,
The long day closes.
The idea of death, though never explicitly mentioned, is vividly represented in the many simple incidents that happen in everyday life. The recurring image of something ending is unmistakeable. Perhaps that is why it strikes a resonant chord within me.
Particularly haunting is the amazing work Sullivan has done in capturing the essence in the music, which admittedly is the stronger reason why this song appeals to me:
The first phrase starts off with subtle differences and changes in its harmony, ultimately resolving to a different chord on and emphasizing 'pale'. And that is the first word that really sinks into the listener.
When it comes to 'the long day closes' for the first time, it is markedly given a longer 'airtime' as compared to all other previous phrases where the words keep moving. And that plays up the kind of anticipation that has been building up, culminating in the feeling that finally the day is closing.
The cycle then repeats, with the familiar musical starting of the phrase 'Sit by the silent hearth' as we are invited to sit by a fireplace, as though preparing to hear a story. What we are subsequently presented with is very different from what we experienced in the first stanza - we first note the difference (in chord harmony and dynamics) at 'now dumb for ever', immediately followed by the almost garish 'warning' of 'Heed not now hope believes and fate disposes'; this presumably alludes to the fact that life will go through its fair share of ups and downs, 'mirths' and 'nots', before it (or rather, but eventually still) comes to an end as the long day closes.
The music for the third stanza is set in an overlapping style, pushing the song (and life) forward as it gains impetus and momentum as it gets caught up in itself, until it finds itself quivering lowly. That somehow brings to mind a picture of old age. And it is then that we end up on the dreamless bed. A bed which its user will never dream. A bed that is devoid of all consciousness and subconsciousness. A bed where death is fully borne.
And in a last attempt to mourn and remember the dead, we so often gather everyone at this dreamless bed, where eulogies after eulogies are read out, where one's book of toil is read over and over again. The music spends a third of its time just on these last 4 lines of the poem - highly disproportionate in terms of its physical place in the poem. Yet, it is loaded with such emotional significance it cannot be emphasized more.
And only then, finally, the long day closes.
----------
Honestly, I didn't set out to analyse the music in such detail. I merely wanted to give some details on why it was particularly haunting for me. (and the analysis above, if you can call it an analysis, is lacking in many respects and incomplete and unelaborated on many counts, but deliberately so)
On that night as I lay on my bed, the song was looping in my head in the form of these few lines:
'No star is o'er the lake, its pale watch keeping, the moon is half awake, through gray mist creeping, the last red leaves fall round the porch of roses, the clock hath ceased to sound, the long... day... clo...ses...
Go to the dreamless bed where grief reposes, thy book of toil is read, the long day closes... the long day closes...'
Perhaps I was seeking to find closure in some items, or to find some conclusion. Or to find some answers.
Perhaps, it's time to close a chapter and move on.
Perhaps, it's more of being able to let go.
Perhaps, it's time for the long day to close...
14:03; The Pianist'
thePIANIST;
~ice dragon~
edmund
twenty one
phpps tchs hci nus
bmt-b sispec-g eti-ep
npcc choir
piano
edmund
twenty one
phpps tchs hci nus
bmt-b sispec-g eti-ep
npcc choir
piano
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lit
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