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.

After the death of my mother, 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.

My wife and I are simplifying our days. The server, the monitoring, and the residual obligations that come with keeping a site alive no longer fit the quieter life we 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

0.009 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.

Love and Satyr

by Thomas d'Urfey

−0.0376 + 0.3345i

Drawing the boundary…

To a Day

by Philip Bourke Marston

−0.0333 + 0.3421i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Love and Satyr

by Thomas d'Urfey

When Phæbus does rise, the Flow'rs raise their Heads,
And charm'd by his Influence, smile o'er the Meads,
When Cælia's bright Eyes with kindness meet mine,
New Hopes and new Raptures, my Joys make divine.
We laugh and we sing, the Hours fly with Pleasure,
Affairs abroad we care not to know,
In Youth at our Leisure,
Loves happy Treasure,
Makes Blessings flow,
Mortally averse to Brawlings of High-Church and Low.

Ye Wits of the Town,
Ye Chiefs of the Gown,
Ye Law-making Sages that flatter the Crown,
How dare you address?
How can you profess?
To honour your Soveraign, yet still make her less,
Whilst Factions reign of Whigg and of Tory,
Your Zeal's a Banter to all Men of Sence;
'Tis Gain moves your Fury,
And not her Glory,
Nor our Defence,
And the solemn Word, Religion, is meerly Pretence.

To a Day

by Philip Bourke Marston

Shall I sing of the earth or of the sea? — 
Of bright-wing'd Mirth, that stays its hour, and flies, 
On fickle wings, to far-off, alien skies; 
Shall I praise these, O Day, and not praise thee 
That giv'st me rare, sweet gifts, — yea, was to me 
As sudden fire; a rapture for mine eyes. 
That made my roused, stung heart to swell and rise, 
Filling it with the joy of joys to be ? 

The year returns, but thee I see no more, — 
Gone as a man's first dream of goodness goes; 
But, where less joys are as forgotten things, 
When I draw near to the pale, shadow-shore, 
Be with me then, to fight against my foes; 
Kiss me, and guard me! hide me with thy wings. 

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