Rising – Convery, The Beautiful Land of Nod
Robert Convery – “The Beautiful Land of Nod”
from Jeff Quartets
Sunrise, Wednesday June 3
I will croon you a song, as we float along
Good morning.
Our Sun rises, disinterested.
We take a step back.
We breathe.
Today, a lullaby.
Perhaps a surprise in the chaos.
Not ignoring it. Not a balm.
Away from life’s hurry, and flurry, and worry,
Away from earth’s shadows and gloom
A way of mourning,
though we don’t find music to be healing.
We find it to be all memory and change – an invitation to recognize.
We hear ourselves, our stories, and we respond, involuntarily. Memory.
The response makes us better, makes us stronger. Change.
Our memory tucks those sounds away.
Next time, we remember our recognizing.
Come, close your eyes, and fold your hands
In Bob Convery’s The Beautiful Land of Nod, we recognize our fragility. We recognize our need. We remember.
A Jeff Quartet, about the land East of Eden: Nod.
In Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s poem, Nod has lost its association with Cain – no longer the place of exile – now, the place of wandering. A place to disappear into.
Which no man has seen, but where all have been,
And there we will pause awhile
We seek.
We love to sing The Beautiful Land of Nod because of Bob. He knew that in the grief of losing Jeff we would wander. And, in our wandering, we would want to sing together: something un-complex, something that demands we listen. We’re grateful.
Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear
We are being invited to listen to each other.
We take our time.
We want to sing together.
And we will go sailing away from here
To the beautiful Land of Nod
Coffee.
Toast.
We mourn.
We wander.
- The Whole Team @ The Crossing
The Beautiful Land of Nod
music by Robert Convery
words by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
recorded live in concert at the world premiere of Jeff Quartets,
July 8, 2016 at the Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill
audio by Paul Vazquez of Digital Mission Audio Services
video art by Beth Haidle
* * *
[bracketed text omitted by the composer]
Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear,
Your head like the golden rod,
And we will go sailing away from here
To the beautiful Land of Nod;
Away from life’s hurry, and flurry, and worry,
Away from earth’s shadows and gloom,
To a world of fair weather, we’ll float off together
Where roses are always in bloom.
Come, close your eyes, and fold your hands,
Your hands like the leaves of a rose,
And we will go sailing to those fair lands
That never an atlas shows:
[On the north and the west they are bounded by rest,
On the south and the east by dreams;
‘Tis the country ideal, where nothing is real,
But everything only seems.
Just drop down the curtains of your dear eyes,
Those eyes like a bright blue bell,]
And we will sail out, under star-lit skies,
To the land where the fairies dwell.
Down the river of sleep, our boat will sweep,
‘Till it reaches that mystical Isle
Which no man has seen, but where all have been,
And there we will pause awhile.
I will croon you a song, as we float along,
To that shore that is blessed of God.
Then ho! for that fair land; we’re off for that rare land,
That beautiful land of Nod.