Overview
Written as a funeral dirge, Famine Song tells a story of disease, death, and love in late 19th century India. The lyrics are excepted from Adela Florence Nicolson’s poem of the same name from her book India’s Love Lyrics, and is a continuation of the cycle of choral pieces that includes Golden Stars (F. 150), Wistful Wind (F. 152), The Plains (F. 154), Lost Delight (F. 157), Famine Song (F. 164), and Reminiscence (F. 166).
The Poem
Famine Song
Death and famine on every side
and never a sign of rain—
The bones of those who have starved and died
unburied upon the plain.
What care have I that the bone bleach white?
Tomorrow they may be mine.
But I shall sleep in your arms tonight,
and drink your lips like wine.I hear the sound of a thousand tears,
like softly pattering rain,
I see the fever, folly, and fears
fulfilling man’s tale of pain.
What care have I that the bone bleach white?
Tomorrow they may be mine.
But I shall sleep in your arms tonight,
and drink your lips like wine.So we work on, in the blazing sun,
to bury what dead we may,
But glad, oh, glad, when the day is done
and night fall round us grey.
Would those we covered away from sight
had a rest as sweet as mine!
For I shall sleep in your arms tonight…—excerpted from Famine Song by Adela Florence Nicolson (1865-1904)
Famine Song
Death and Famine on every side
And never a sign of rain,
The bones of those who have starved and died
Unburied upon the plain.
What care have I that the bones bleach white?
To-morrow they may be mine,
But I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And drink your lips like wine!…
I hear the sound of a thousand tears,
Like softly pattering rain,
I see the fever, folly, and fears
Fulfilling man’s tale of pain.
But for the moment your star is bright,
I revel beneath its shine,
For I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And feel your lips on mine!…
So on I work, in the blazing sun,
To bury what dead we may,
But glad, oh, glad, when the day is done
And the night falls round us grey.
Would those we covered away from sight
Had a rest as sweet as mine!
For I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And drink your lips like wine!—excerpted from Famine Song by Adela Florence Nicolson (1865-1904)
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