Here’s a thought worth considering, twice stated, first in elegant prose, then in lyrical poetry which I set to music.

Both conclude — spoiler alert! — with a surprising appreciation of bread and cheese.

First, the prose:

"The gulf between spirit and matter seems so wide and deep that we cannot conceive how it is ever to be bridged; but neither can we conceive how the flint gives birth to a spark of fire or how the tremendous gap is leaped between black marks on white paper [or on the screen of a computer or cell phone] and knowledge, thought, emotion. We do not understand how violinists draw dreams out of horsehair and catgut; we merely observe that they do.

"The gulf, after all, is of our own digging. Mother Nature knows nothing of the petty distinctions we set up between things ‘noble’ and ‘base.’ When we have learned to think more respectfully of her we shall remember that the rose as well as the cabbage is her child, that Shelly’s Odes and the visions of St. Theresa have exactly the same source as the potato. Beethoven’s symphonies, if we will allow ourselves to think of it, were made in part of bread and cheese and beer. Is this thought degrading to the music? Rather, it should suggest a reason for thinking better of beer and bread and cheese.”

— from “The Harvest of a Quiet Eye,” a book I love, by Odell Shepard

Now, the poem:

The Shepherd by Walter de la Mare

When I was out one morning --
In a meadow, white with sheep,
Lay a shepherd by a haystack
Fast asleep.

With me the lark was carolling,
There was gold and green and blue;
But what, you drowsy shepherd,
Was with you?

Was it night and water gushing
And moonbeams cold and clear
On the softly silver-slipping
Dripping weir?

Was it childhood, was it sweetheart,
Was it distant isles and seas,
Day of Judgement, Harvest Home, or
only bread and cheese?

To hear mezzo Susan Olson sing my setting of “The Shepherd" from Silvery Songs for mezzo, flute and piano, click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.