by Patrick J. Burns (Difficulty: Medium. 4:30)
solo flute, oboe, or clarinet in B-flat with piano.
‘Twas noontide of summer, And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits, Shone pale, thro’ the light
Of the brighter, cold moon, ‘Mid planets her slaves, Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold–too cold for me- There pass’d, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee, Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar,
And dearer thy beam shall be; For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night, And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.
Edgar Allan Poe
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