PROGRAM NOTES

Between the March and April line…

One solitary bird salutes the night…

I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over… Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree…)

9: All That Could Never Be Said

With a simple melody inspired by children's songs, "All That Could Never Be Said" is a setting of Sara Teasdale's poem "In the End". Showcasing her signature pairing of nihilism and pastoral beauty, the poem is an exploration of regret: it suggests that the consequences of our inaction are final and absolute. There are no second chances to speak up or to act, and all our missed opportunities will be lost to us until we're reunited with them in death. In the context of extinction, it mirrors the concept of 'tipping points' in environmental science—thresholds that, should we cross them, will be irreversible.

My setting re-imagines the text as a simple children's melody, recasting the entirety of The Lost Birds as a fable. And just like in the story of "The Grasshopper and the Ant", the moral of the story is that our inaction in the face of slow extinction will ultimately doom us.

Text adapted from a poem by Sara Teasdale

All that could never be said, All that could never be done, Wait for us at last

Somewhere back of the sun; All the heart broke to forego Shall be ours without pain, We shall take them as lightly as girls Pluck flowers after rain.

All that could never be said, All that could never be done, Wait for us at last

By the sun.

10: I Shall Not See the Shadows

"I Shall Not See the Shadows" is based on Christina Rossetti's poem "When I Am Dead My Dearest". It portrays death at its most indifferent—unnoticed, unheralded, unremembered. It also suggests that forgetting is a form of extinction, too—that the finality of species lies not in the death of its last remaining members, but in the failure to preserve their memory.

We are currently in an epoch known as the sixth mass extinction—and estimates show that the current rate of extinction, caused almost wholly by manmade factors, is anywhere from 100 to 1,000 times faster than the normal baseline. And despite the high-profile collapse of many species like the passenger pigeon, the majority of extinctions happen quietly.

Text adapted from poems by Christina Rossetti and Emily Dickinson

When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget. Between the March and April line— That magical frontier Beyond which summer hesitates, Almost too heavenly near. The saddest noise, the sweetest noise, The maddest noise that grows and grows,— The birds, they made it in the spring, At night’s delicious close. The saddest noise I know.

11: In the End

"In the End" serves as a coda to the story of The Lost Birds, and is a reprise of "All That Could Never Be Said". This time, however, the musical range of the piece contracts, and one by one the singers stop singing until we're left with a solitary voice trailing out to silence. If The Lost Birds is a fable—where the moral of the story is a warning against inaction in the face of extinction—then the ending of the story is now ambiguous. It remains to be seen whether we will be able to forestall our own demise.

Text adapted from a poem by Sara Teasdale

All that could never be said, All that could never be done, Wait for us at last Somewhere back of the sun; And when they are ours in the end Perhaps after all The skies will not open for us Nor heaven be there at our call. After all that was never done.

12: Hope Is the Thing with Feathers

"Hope Is the Thing with Feathers" is a setting of the Emily Dickinson poem by the same name. It serves as an epilogue—a final reprise of the "Flocks a Mile Wide" theme, but now set for voices. It suggests that while the passenger pigeon's song may be lost forever, we can at least honor and preserve its memory with our own songs. We thus end The Lost Birds on a note of hope.

Text adapted from a poem by Emily Dickinson

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.