Oh, the years creep slowly by, Lorena,
The snow is on the ground again.
The sun's low down the sky, Lorena,
The frost gleams where the flow'rs have been.
But the heart beats on as warmly now,
As when the summer days were nigh.
Oh, the sun can never dip so low
A-down affection's cloudless sky.
A hundred months have passed, Lorena,
Since last I held that hand in mine,
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena,
Though mine beat faster far than thine.
A hundred months, 'twas flowery May,
When up the hilly slope we climbed,
To watch the dying of the day,
And hear the distant church bells chime.
We loved each other then, Lorena,
Far more than we ever dared to tell;
And what we might have been, Lorena,
Had but our loving prospered well --
But then, 'tis past, the years are gone,
I'll not call up their shadowy forms;
I'll say to them, "Lost years, sleep on!
Sleep on! nor heed life's pelting storms."
The story of that past, Lorena,
Alas! I care not to repeat,
The hopes that could not last, Lorena,
They lived, but only lived to cheat.
I would not cause e'en one regret
To rankle in your bosom now;
For "if we try we may forget,"
Were words of thine long years ago.
Yes, these were words of thine, Lorena,
They burn within my memory yet;
They touched some tender chords, Lorena,
Which thrill and tremble with regret.
'Twas not thy woman's heart that spoke;
Thy heart was always true to me:
A duty, stern and pressing, broke
The tie which linked my soul with thee.
It matters little now, Lorena,
The past is in the eternal past;
Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena,
Life's tide is ebbing out so fast.
There is a Future! O, thank God!
Of life this is so small a part!
'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod;
But there, up there, 'tis heart to heart.
The snow is on the ground again.
The sun's low down the sky, Lorena,
The frost gleams where the flow'rs have been.
But the heart beats on as warmly now,
As when the summer days were nigh.
Oh, the sun can never dip so low
A-down affection's cloudless sky.
A hundred months have passed, Lorena,
Since last I held that hand in mine,
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena,
Though mine beat faster far than thine.
A hundred months, 'twas flowery May,
When up the hilly slope we climbed,
To watch the dying of the day,
And hear the distant church bells chime.
We loved each other then, Lorena,
Far more than we ever dared to tell;
And what we might have been, Lorena,
Had but our loving prospered well --
But then, 'tis past, the years are gone,
I'll not call up their shadowy forms;
I'll say to them, "Lost years, sleep on!
Sleep on! nor heed life's pelting storms."
The story of that past, Lorena,
Alas! I care not to repeat,
The hopes that could not last, Lorena,
They lived, but only lived to cheat.
I would not cause e'en one regret
To rankle in your bosom now;
For "if we try we may forget,"
Were words of thine long years ago.
Yes, these were words of thine, Lorena,
They burn within my memory yet;
They touched some tender chords, Lorena,
Which thrill and tremble with regret.
'Twas not thy woman's heart that spoke;
Thy heart was always true to me:
A duty, stern and pressing, broke
The tie which linked my soul with thee.
It matters little now, Lorena,
The past is in the eternal past;
Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena,
Life's tide is ebbing out so fast.
There is a Future! O, thank God!
Of life this is so small a part!
'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod;
But there, up there, 'tis heart to heart.
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2017/4/11 - 22:25
Il motivo musicale di "Lorena" si ascolta anche in una scena di "Via col vento" (sniff, sono tutto sdilinquito...)
B.B. - 2017/4/11 - 22:28
... In "Via col vento" e anche in "Sentieri selvaggi"!!! Son tutto un fremito...
Bernart Bartleby - 2017/4/11 - 22:38
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Parole del rev. Henry DeLafayette Webster, ministro della chiesa universalista americana in Ohio nella seconda metà dell'800.
Musica di Joseph Philbrick Webster (1819-1875), compositore, l'autore di "In the Sweet By and By", uno degli inni cristiani più famosi d'America.
Nel 1856, mentre era ministro del culto a Zanesville, Ohio, il rev. Webster s'innamorò perdutamente di Ella Blocksom, rampolla di una ricca famiglia del luogo. Il pastore pensava così di riuscire a sistemarsi, ma il padre e i fratelli di lei misero il veto: “Questo matrimonio non s'ha da fare, ne ora né mai!”, tuonarono. Lei gli scrisse una tenera missiva chiedendogli di dimenticarla. Poi andò in moglie ad un giudice della Corte Suprema dello Stato. Lui, disperato, abbandonò per sempre Zanesville. Qualche tempo dopo, conosciuto il noto compositore J.P. Webster (che non era un suo parente), riuscì a mettere in musica la poesia che il suo cuore spezzato aveva partorito...
Non immaginavano i Webster che la loro “Lorena” sarebbe diventata la canzone più cantata durante la Guerra Civile tra i soldati di ambo le parti, a tal punto che alcuni ufficiali confederati ritenevano che fosse stata proprio la dolente e strappalacrime “Lorena”, scritta in fondo da due nordisti, a provocare la sconfitta, avendo minato irreparabilmente il morale delle truppe. (en.wikipedia)
Se davvero così fosse stato, merita assolutamente di essere accolta fra le CCG/AWS, una canzone d'amore perduto che contribuì ad accelerare la fine di una guerra sanguinaria e fratricida.
Le versioni del brano sono tantissime, ma mi è d'obbligo contribuire quella di Johnny Cash