A quiet notice V2Melody closes at midnight on , Spanish time.

Closes

A note from Richard

V2Melody will close at midnight on 20 January 2028

This site has been a retirement project in musical poetry: poems chosen with care and set to music, offered freely for as long as it felt right to keep the garden open.

The work no longer holds the place it once did in my life. I have gone as far with it as I wish to go. Like a sand mandala, it was made to be completed and then released. I am not attached to its permanence, and I do not believe any of it needs to last beyond the time it was given.

I want a simpler life, without the hassle of being online. The work of maintaining a server, the monitoring, and the residual obligations that come with keeping a site alive no longer fit the life I want.

From 4 November 2026 I will not be adding new poems or musical poems to the site.

Until midnight on 20 January 2028, Spanish time, everything remains available exactly as it is. That is when my VPS server contract comes to an end, and it will not be renewed. After that, the server will be switched off and the site will disappear.

Thank you to anyone who found a poem, a track, or a quiet moment here.

The pleasure was in the making.

Richard



Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.025 apart. A smaller distance means the lines are built more alike.

This number is read from the build of the lines. The bright edge is that number, carried outward until the pattern repeats.

Oft thou hast with greedy ear

by John Cooper

−0.1936 − 0.5252i

Drawing the boundary…

In a Cafe

by Francis Ledwidge

−0.1725 − 0.5380i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

Each poem scrolls on its own, so the two texts stay beside each other.

Oft thou hast with greedy ear

by John Cooper

Oft thou hast with greedy ear
Drunk my notes and words of pleasure;
In affection's equal measure
Now my songs of sorrow hear,
Since from thee my griefs do grow,
Whom alive I prized so dear.
The more my joy, the more my woe.

Music, though it sweetens pain,
Yet no whit impairs lamenting,
But in passions like consenting
Makes them constant that complain,
And enchants their fancies so
That all comforts they disdain,
And fly from joy to dwell with woe.

In a Cafe

by Francis Ledwidge

Kiss the maid and pass her round,
Lips like hers were made for many.
Our loves are far from us to-night,
But these red lips are sweet as any.

Let no empty glass be seen
Aloof from our good table's sparkle,
At the acme of our cheer
Here are francs to keep the circle.

They are far who miss us most—
Sip and kiss—how well we love them,
Battling through the world to keep
Their hearts at peace, their God above them.

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