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For Beauty's Sake

by The Rossettis

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1.
Robert Louis Stevenson Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams, Let Beauty awake from rest! Let Beauty awake for Beauty's sake In the hour when the birds awake in the brake And the stars are bright in the west! Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day, Awake in the crimson eve! In the day's dusk end when the shades ascend, Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend To render again and receive!
2.
Shall Earth no more inspire thee Shall Earth no more inspire thee, thou lonely dreamer now? Since passion may not fire thee, shall Nature cease to bow? Thy mind is ever moving in regions dark to thee Recall its useless roving, come back and dwell with me. I know my mountain breezes enchant and soothe thee still-- I know my sunshine pleases despite thy wayward will. When day with evening blending sinks from the summer sky, I've seen thy spirit bending in fond idolatry. I've watched thee every hour, I know my mighty sway-- I know my magic power to drive thy griefs away. Few hearts to mortals given on earth so wildly pine, Yet none would ask a Heaven more like the Earth than thine. Then let my winds caress thee, thy comrade let me be-- Since naught beside can bless thee, return and dwell with me.
3.
Lord Byron (1788 -1824) So, we'll go no more a-roving So, we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a roving By the light of the moon.
4.
Emily Brontë I'll come when thou art saddest Laid alone in the darkened room
 When the mad day's mirth has vanished
 And the smile of joy is banished
 From evening's chilly gloom I'll come when the heart's real feeling
 Has entire unbiased sway
 And my influence o'er thee stealing
 Grief deepening joy congealing
 Shall bear thy soul away Listen: 'tis just the hour
 The awful time for thee
 Dost thou not feel upon thy soul
 A flood of strange sensations roll
 Forerunners of a sterner power
 Heralds of me!
5.
Emily Dickinson (1830- 1886) Heart, we will forget him Heart, we will forget him You and I tonight. You may forget the warmth he gave And I’ll forget the light. When you have done, pray, tell me That I my thoughts may dim Haste! Lest while you are lagging I may remember him!
6.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882) Silent noon Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass, - The finger-points look through like rosy blooms Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms 'Neath billowing clouds that scatter and amass. All round our nest, far as the eye can pass, Are golden kingcup fields with silver edge Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn hedge. 'Tis visible silence, still as the hour glass. Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky: - So this winged hour is dropt to us from above. Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower, This close-companioned inarticulate hour When twofold silence was the song of love.
7.
A. E. Housman (1859 -1936) Into my heart Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain, The happy highways where I went And cannot come again.
8.
Emily Brontë All day I've toiled All day I've toiled but not with pain In learning's golden mine And now at eventide again The moonbeams softly shine. There is no snow upon the ground No frost on wind or wave The south wind blew with gentlest sound And broke their icy grave. Tis sweet to wander here at night To watch the winter die With heart as summer sunshine light And warm as summer's sky. O may I never lose the peace That lulls me gently now Though time may change my youthful face And years may shade my brow. True to myself and true to all May I be healthful still And turn away from passion's call And curb my own wild will.
9.
Anne Brontë (1820-1849) My Soul is Awakened My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring, 
And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze; 
 For, above, and around me, the wild wind is roaring 
 Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas. 

 The long withered grass in the sunshine is glancing, 
 The bare trees are tossing their branches on high; 
 The dead leaves beneath them are merrily dancing, 
 The white clouds are scudding across the blue sky. 

 I wish I could see how the ocean is lashing 
 The foam of its billows to whirlwinds of spray, I wish I could see how its proud waves are dashing 
 And hear the wild roar of their thunder today!
10.
.Emily Brontë The caged bird And like myself lone, Wholly lone, It sees the day’s long sunshine glow; And like myself it makes its moan In unexhausted woe. Give we the hills our equal prayer: Earth’s breezy hills and heaven’s blue sea; We ask for nothing further here But our own hearts and liberty. Ah! Could my hands unlock its chain, How gladly would I watch it soar, And ne’er regret and ne’er complain To see its shining eyes no more. But let me think that if to-day It pines in cold captivity, To-morrow both shall soar away Eternally, entirely free.
11.
Emily Brontë There should be no despair for you There should be no despair for you While nightly stars are burning; While evening pours its silent dew, And sunshine gilds the morning. There should be no despair--though tears May flow down like a river: Are not the best beloved of years Around your heart for ever? They weep, you weep, it must be so; Winds sigh as you are sighing, And winter sheds its grief in snow Where Autumn's leaves are lying: Yet, these revive, and from their fate Your fate cannot be parted: Then, journey on, if not elate, Still, never broken-hearted!
12.
Thomas Hardy (1840-1928) Proud Songsters The thrushes sing as the sun is going, And the finches whistle in ones and pairs, And as it gets dark loud nightingales In bushes Pipe, as they can when April wears, As if all Time were theirs. These are brand new birds of twelvemonths' growing, Which a year ago, or less than twain, No finches were, nor nightingales, Nor thrushes, But only particles of grain, And earth, and air, and rain.

about

Every work of art has a story. The story of this cd started when I had just finished my previous cd “Letter to the World” which I had made with pianist Jan Frans van Dijkhuijzen. I gave it to Jan-Peter Bast, who came to our house for a coffee. “Why don’t you play together, you’d be great”, Vincent suggested. I was embarrassed, forever doubting my own talents and admiring Jan-Peter’s so much. He said he’d listen to the cd and a few weeks later we were performing together somewhere on an outdoor stage, capturing the attention of an audience that forgot they were getting wet from the drizzle. Our teaming up has been so inspiring and encouraging from the very start. Jan-Peter understands exactly what I want my songs to sound like even though I cannot put it into words. He is such an amazing pianist and a relaxed and friendly man into the bargain.
Being a bit of drummer myself, I started to miss some percussion, so we asked my long-time friend Arthur Brenkman with whom, oddly enough, I had never played before. He gave that bit of extra to the songs that made my dreams come true. It was Jan-Peter’s idea to ask Sophie de Rijk to make the melodies even more lyrical with her beautiful tone on the violin. When she started to play on our very first rehearsal, she hit me spot-on in the heart and I forgot to sing. We did “Let beauty awake” which I really wanted as the first track on this cd, so you could have the same experience as I had then.
You could say, of course, that the story started earlier, for example, when I first heard and met Jan-Peter in Wijk aan Zee, in the Netherlands, as well as Jan-Paul van der Meij, in 2005. Or when I met Arthur when I had signed up as a volunteer reading out English books in the library for the blind after my graduation. Or when I met Sophie at university in a choir for musicology students. Or when I met Vincent and learned about love. Or when I went to university reading English literature and listening to poems set to music by such composers as Ralph Vaughan Williams and Benjamin Britten. Or when I was a teenager and absolutely blown away by a novel called Jane Eyre.
No matter how far back you date the start of this cd, it is here and you’re holding it now. Most poems on it have been with me for a long time and I so much want to share them. Setting them to music is a way of making them more accessible to an audience that would otherwise not know about English poetry. They’re touching, eloquent, heart-breaking, dreamy, romantic, pensive, full of hope or a little ironic. Although they were written in the 19th century, we can still relate to the feelings in the poems because mankind hasn’t really changed.
This is our ode to English poetry.
Our new letter to the world. “For despite all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world” .

credits

released June 1, 2014

Mariska Reijmerink, vocals
Jan-Peter Bast, piano
Arthur Brenkman, drums and percussion
Sophie de Rijk, violin
Vincent Bijlo, featuring on songs 3 and 6
Jan-Paul van der Meij, engineer

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The Rossettis The Netherlands

The Rossettis are the band around singer Mariska Reijmerink who sets beautiful English poetry to beautiful music. Her excellent band members are pianist Jan-Peter Bast, his partner and violinist Sophie de Rijk and Mariska's long-time friend and drummer Arthur Brenkman. With the four of them they create an enchanting, intimate, tender and yet energetic sound that does credit to the poems. ... more

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