The Crown of Roses (Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky): Difference between revisions
(Sorry, page should be called "Crown of Roses, The" not "The Crown of Thorns") |
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{{Legend}} | {{Legend}} | ||
*{{NewWork|2009-02-07}} '''CPDL #18886:''' [Tcha-leg.pdf {{pdf}}] [Tcha-leg.mid {{mid}}] [Tcha-leg.ly LilyPond] | *{{NewWork|2009-02-07}} '''CPDL #18886:''' [{{filepath:Tcha-leg.pdf}} {{pdf}}] [{{filepath:Tcha-leg.mid}} {{mid}}] [{{filepath:Tcha-leg.ly}} LilyPond] | ||
{{Editor|Mark Chapman|2009-02-07}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|3|312}}{{Copy|CPDL}} | {{Editor|Mark Chapman|2009-02-07}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|3|312}}{{Copy|CPDL}}{{Edition}} | ||
==General Information== | ==General Information== | ||
'''Title:''' ''The Crown of | '''Title:''' ''The Crown of Roses''<br> | ||
{{Composer|Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky}} | {{Composer|Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky}} | ||
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==Original text and translations== | ==Original text and translations== | ||
{{Text|English}} | |||
When Jesus Christ was yet a child<br> | When Jesus Christ was yet a child<br> |
Revision as of 11:44, 7 February 2009
Music files
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CPDL #18886: LilyPond
- Editor: Mark Chapman (submitted 2009-02-07). Score information: A4, 3 pages, 312 kB Copyright: CPDLThis template name is reserved for future development (something in line with what was originally proposed by Pml).
General Information
Title: The Crown of Roses
Composer: Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
Number of voices: 5vv Voicing: SATBB
Genre: Sacred, Sacred song
Language: English
Instruments: A capella
Published: 1883
Description: First published in the composer's collection "Songs for the Young".
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
When Jesus Christ was yet a child
He had a garden small and wild,
Wherein He cherished roses fair,
And wove them into garlands there.
Now once, as summer time drew nigh,
There came a troop of children by,
And seeing roses on the tree,
With shouts they plucked them merrily.
Do you bind roses in your hair?
They cried, in scorn, to Jesus there,
The Boy said humbly: "Take, I pray,
"All but the naked thorns away."
Then of the thorns they made a crown,
And with rough fingers pressed it down,
Till on His forehead fair and young,
Red drops of blood like roses sprung.