Gabriel Jackson Choral Symphony
for 6 sopranos, 6 altos, 6 tenors and 6 basses. A choral celebration of London, written for The BBC Singers, Choral Symphony explores all sides of this city, from the grandiose architecture and the bustling life of Fleet Street, to the darker aspects of today's poorer neighbourhoods. Jackson takes his texts from a wide range of poets, from Oscar Wilde to contemporary street rapper, George the Poet.
for 6 sopranos, 6 altos, 6 tenors and 6 basses.
A choral celebration of London, written for The BBC Singers, Choral Symphony explores all sides of this city, from the grandiose architecture and the bustling life of Fleet Street, to the darker aspects of today's poorer neighbourhoods. Jackson takes his texts from a wide range of poets, from Oscar Wilde to contemporary street rapper, George the Poet.
Create successful ePaper yourself
Turn your PDF publications into a flip-book with our unique Google optimized e-Paper software.
One,<br />
And then another,<br />
Between them I hear the shuffling of feet.<br />
Tramps doze on the window‐ledges,<br />
Night‐walkers pass along the sidewalks.<br />
The city is squalid and sinister,<br />
With the silver‐barred street in the midst,<br />
Slow‐moving,<br />
A river leading nowhere.<br />
Opposite my window,<br />
The moon cuts,<br />
Clear and round,<br />
Through the plum‐coloured night.<br />
She cannot light the city:<br />
It is too bright.<br />
It has white lamps,<br />
And glitters coldly.<br />
for online perusal only<br />
I stand in the window and watch the moon.<br />
She is thin and lustreless,<br />
But I love her.<br />
I know the moon,<br />
And this is an alien city.<br />
Amy Lowell (1874–1925)<br />
The lights of London<br />
The evenfall, so slow on hills, hath shot<br />
Far down into the valley’s cold extreme,<br />
Untimely midnight; spire and roof and stream<br />
Like fleeing specters, shudder and are not.<br />
The Hampstead hollies, from their sylvan plot<br />
Yet cloudless, lean to watch as in a dream,<br />
From chaos climb with many a sudden gleam,<br />
London, one moment fallen and forgot.<br />
Her booths begin to flare; and gases bright<br />
Prick door and window; all her streets obscure<br />
Sparkle and swarm with nothing true nor sure,<br />
Full as a marsh of mist and winking light;<br />
Heaven thickens over, Heaven that cannot cure<br />
Her tear by day, her fevered smile by night.<br />
Louise Imogen Guiney (1861–1920)
Change language