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. The poems were already here before I arrived and began to experiment with them. They will still be here when these musical experiments, and indeed myself, have been swept away, like the sand of a mandala. Nothing has been lost.

I want a simpler end to my life, days of simple love and enjoyment with my wonderful wife of 20 years. The work of maintaining a server, the monitoring, and the residual obligations that come with keeping a site alive no longer fit that life.

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.

The Mandala Is Finished explains this more fully.

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

0.010 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.

Irish Ivy

by Nora Hopper Chesson

−0.0948 − 0.1366i

Drawing the boundary…

Sprightly Old Age

by Leigh Hunt

−0.0868 − 0.1310i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Irish Ivy

by Nora Hopper Chesson

Ivy of Ireland in my garden grows 
Beside the foxglove that the wild bee knows, 
More dear to me than lavender or rose. 

Gray moths about it flit, and gold wasps hum: 
The bees salute it softly as they come: 
The east wind loiters by it, and is dumb — 

Or whispers very lightly of green rings, 
And hollow raths, and fairy-peopled springs, 
And buried days when Boholaun had wings: 

And rode amid the unforgotten Shee. 
Or the west wind comes, laughing, from the sea, 
And tells the youngest leaves of days to be, 

When Eri's grievous wound is healed, and she 
Shall lift her gracious head, and, smiling, see 
Her children coming crowned about her knee. 

Ivy of Ireland, is the promise clear? 
You climb towards the light 'twixt hope and fear. 
But would to God the day we wait were here! 

Sprightly Old Age

by Leigh Hunt

When the sports of youth I see, 
Youth itself returns to me. 
Then indeed my old age springs, 
To the dance on starting wings.
Stop, Cybele, roses there, —
As befits a dancer's hair:
Grey-beard sloth away be flung;
And I'll join you, young for young,
Afterwards go fetch we wine,
Bounty of a fruit divine;
And I'll show what age can do,
Able still to warble too,
Able still to drink down sadness,
And display a graceful madness.

—
—
0:00
0:00
Track 1
Skip to main content