official web site since 1997 of the composer, author, poet and visual artist

 Joseph Johannes (Joop) Visser:

ECCE HOMO; 6 Songs on Poems by

First World War Poets

for Alto and Church Organ

sketches as played on carillon and celesta

Original recordings of the

Première Performance by:

MIRJAM BOERS & LOUIS LEVELT

recording JAAP WAJER
15th of April 2012
in the Lutheran Church, Edam
the organ is built by Gideon Thomas Baetz from Utrecht

 

CHARLES HAMILTON SORLEY:
All the hills and vales along

 

JOSEPH RUDYARD KIPLING:
A son

 

JOSEPH RUDYARD KIPLING
Unknown Female Corpse

 

CHARLES HAMILTON SORLEY:
When you see Millions

 

WILFRED EDWARD S. OWEN:
Futility

 

PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS:

In Memoriam Easter

 

RETURN TO

1st page of the '6 Songs'

 

In Memoriam (Easter, 1915)
 

BY EDWARD THOMAS
 
 

The flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood
This Eastertide call into mind the men,
Now far from home, who, with their sweethearts, should
Have gathered them and will do never again.

Landscape

In 'Poetry of the First World War, edited by Maurice Hussey, we find: "When we read one of Thomas's nature pieces we are inclined to ask ourselves this: Why is country poetry so frequently naïve? Isn't there room for adult writing on the countryside? Since Thomas was capable of complex thought in such surroundings, why must so much pastoral poetry resemble what the music critic, Constant Lambert, once remarked of the composer Vaughan William,, 'a cow looking over a gate'?"
Personally - having a bit of a 'pastoral mind' myself - I simply claim such 'naïvety' a 'basic human right' which is at the very basis of 'adult writing' with 'complex thought'.
If one needs convincing there's always Thomas's 'A Private':

 

A Private


BY EDWARD THOMAS


This ploughman dead in battle slept out of doors
Many a frosty night, and merrily
Answered staid drinkers, good bedmen, and all bores:
'At Mrs Greenland's Hawthorn Bush,' said he,
'I slept.' None knew which bush. Above the town,
Beyond 'The Drover', a hundred spot the down
In Wiltshire. And where now at last he sleeps
More sound in France—that, too, he secret keeps.