Get all 30 Valentine Wolfe releases available on Bandcamp and save 15%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of All My Nights Were Trances, Lupercalia, A Dream Within A Dream, If She Had Been the Mistletoe, Lullabies, Love Songs, and Laments, Songs of Euphoria: The Poetry of Dana Maria Basilone, A Night of Victorian Spiritualism, Echoes Fall, and 22 more.
1. |
I Felt A Funeral
04:16
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I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –
I felt a Funeral, As all the Heavens were a Bell
I felt a Funeral
And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My Mind was going numb –
And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,
As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here –
And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –
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2. |
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The Soul selects her own Society —
Then — shuts the Door —
To her divine Majority —
Obtrude no more —
Unmoved — she notes the Chariots — pausing —
At her low Gate —
Unmoved — an Emperor be kneeling
Upon her Mat —
I’ve known her — from an ample nation —
Choose One —
Then — close the Valves of her attention —
Like Stone —
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3. |
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Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.
We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –
Or rather – He passed Us –
The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –
Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –
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4. |
Now I Knew I lost Her
03:47
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Now I knew I lost her —
Not that she was gone —
But Remoteness travelled
On her Face and Tongue.
Alien, though adjoining
As a Foreign Race —
Traversed she though pausing
Latitudeless Place.
Elements Unaltered —
Universe the same
But Love's transmigration —
Somehow this had come —
Henceforth to remember
Nature took the Day
I had paid so much for —
His is Penury
Not who toils for Freedom
Or for Family
But the Restitution
Of Idolatry.
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5. |
The Frost Of Death
05:06
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The Frost of Death was on the Pane —
“Secure your Flower" said he.
Like Sailors fighting with a Leak
We fought Mortality.
Our passive Flower we held to Sea —
To Mountain — To the Sun —
Yet even on his Scarlet shelf
To crawl the Frost begun —
We pried him back
Ourselves we wedged
Himself and her between,
Yet easy as the narrow Snake
He forked his way along
Till all her helpless beauty bent
And then our wrath begun —
We hunted him to his Ravine
We chased him to his Den —
We hated Death and hated Life
And nowhere was to go —
Than Sea and continent there is
A larger — it is Woe —
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6. |
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Where I have lost, I softer tread-
I sow sweet flower from garden bed-
I pause above that vanished head-
And mourn.
Whom I have lost, I pious guard
From accent harsh, or ruthless word-
Feeling as if their pillow heard,
Though stone!
When I have lost, you’ll know by this-
A Bonnet black, A dusk surplice-
A little tremor in my voice
Like this!
Why, I have lost, the people know
Who dressed in frocks of purest snow
Went home a century ago
Next Bliss!
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7. |
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This World is not Conclusion.
A Species stands beyond -
Invisible, as Music -
But positive, as Sound -
It beckons, and it baffles -
Philosophy, don’t know -
And through a Riddle, at the last -
Sagacity, must go -
To guess it, puzzles scholars -
To gain it, Men have borne
Contempt of Generations
And Crucifixion, shown -
Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies -
Blushes, if any see -
Plucks at a twig of Evidence -
And asks a Vane, the way -
Much Gesture, from the Pulpit -
Strong Hallelujahs roll -
Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the soul -
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8. |
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Much Madness is divinest Sense -
To a discerning Eye -
Much Sense - the starkest Madness -
’Tis the Majority
In this, as all, prevail -
Assent - and you are sane -
Demur - you’re straightway dangerous -
And handled with a Chain -
The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
The maddest noise that grows,-
The birds, they make it in the spring,
At night’s delicious close,
Between the March and April line-
That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
Almost too heavenly near.
It makes us think of all the dead
That sauntered with us here,
By separation’s sorcery
Made cruelly more dear.
It makes us think of what we had,
And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
Would go and sing no more.
An ear can break a human heart
As quickly as a spear.
We wish the ear had not a heart
So dangerously near.
With Midnight to the North of Her-
And Midnight to the South of Her-
And Maelstrom- in the Sky-
Much Madness is divinest Sense -
To a discerning Eye -
Much Sense - the starkest Madness -
’Tis the Majority
In this, as all, prevail -
Assent - and you are sane -
Demur - you’re straightway dangerous -
And handled with a Chain -
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9. |
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All overgrown by cunning moss,
All interspersed with weed,
The little cage of “Currer Bell”
In quiet “Haworth” laid.
This bird- observing others
When frosts too sharp became
Retire to other latitudes-
Quietly did the same-
But differed in returning-
Since Yorkshire hills are green-
Yet not in all the nests I meet-
Can Nightingale be seen-
Gathered from many wanderings-
Gethsemane can tell
Thro’ what transporting anguish
She reached the Asphodel!
Soft fall the sounds of Eden
Upon her puzzled ear-
Oh what an afternoon for Heaven,
When “Bronte” entered there!
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10. |
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“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
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11. |
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Wild nights - Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile - the winds -
To a Heart in port -
Done with the Compass -
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden -
Ah - the Sea!
Might I but moor - tonight -
In thee!
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Valentine Wolfe Greenville, South Carolina
Two morbidly fascinated musicians combining ambient solo bass, brutal distortion, electronica, and 18th century opera to tell a story of the macabre.
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