It is bliss itself to fall asleep while listening This beautiful choras in my warm and comfortable bed. This is a luxurious , splendid , gorgeous and beyond description's lullaby
Only in Sleep is a poem by American author Sara Teasdale. It’s about a lady remembering her childhood friends in her dreams. MP3 Recording of Only in Sleep Only in Sleep Only in sleep I see their faces, Children I played with when I was a child, Louise comes back with her brown hair braided, Annie with ringlets warm and wild. Only in sleep Time is forgotten - What may have come to them, who can know? Yet we played last night as long ago, And the doll-house stood at the turn of the stair.
The years had not sharpened their smooth round faces, I met their eyes and found them mild - Do they, too, dream of me, I wonder, And for them am I too a child? Read by Diana Majlinger Image from “The Girl’s Own Book” (1856) by Lydia Maria Child
lovely soloist, and nice harmonic supportive choir. such a great piece...
This is shimmering music. Composer and choir capture the beauty of the written words with perfection.
It is bliss itself to fall asleep while listening This beautiful choras in my warm and comfortable bed.
This is a luxurious , splendid , gorgeous and beyond description's lullaby
This is excellent. I have listened to almost all versions of this song on TH-cam, and this is one of the best.
most technical for sure.
Backing chorus is so strong!! well performed
Moves me every time that I hear this. A profound poem and hauntingly beautiful piece. I succumb to The Feels.
Absolute perfection. The soloist really made me feel calm and would like to sleep....Bravissimo!!!!!
Only in Sleep is a poem by American author Sara Teasdale. It’s about a lady remembering her childhood friends in her dreams.
MP3 Recording of Only in Sleep
Only in Sleep
Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.
Only in sleep Time is forgotten -
What may have come to them, who can know?
Yet we played last night as long ago,
And the doll-house stood at the turn of the stair.
The years had not sharpened their smooth round faces,
I met their eyes and found them mild -
Do they, too, dream of me, I wonder,
And for them am I too a child?
Read by Diana Majlinger
Image from “The Girl’s Own Book” (1856) by Lydia Maria Child
🙂💕❤❤❤
BRAVO!
süß