This choral cycle was commissioned jointly by OCR and the family of Clare enthusiast Alfred Tealby. It was composed in 2009 as the centrepiece for a partnership project between OCR, the John Clare Trust and the Granta Chorale, called ‘Clare’s Calendar – Rhythms of a Rural Life’. It was first performed in the church in Glinton near Peterborough, where John Clare attended school. There have been many subsequent performances including at the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge and in St Mary’s Saffron Walden.

The original idea for this work came Alfred Tealby's family, who suggested that settings of John Clare settings would be a fitting memorial for him. The first and last poems were two of Alfred’s favourites – Clock-a-clay and Little trotty wagtail. In these light-hearted verses Clare shows his total absorption in the minute observation of two creatures, which are characterised in a friendly and anthropomorphic way. I have aimed to create equally light-hearted music.
Clock-a-clay (a country name for a ladybird) is set as a vaguely popular-style waltz, while Little trotty wagtail uses fast-moving descending accompaniment patterns to suggest a backwash of rain and the nimble movements of the bird.

The three central songs set poems on the theme of Clare’s first love, Mary Joyce. Though parted from her at an early age he later became convinced (in his confused state) that she was one of his wives. Though physically absent she was his ever-present muse. No single hour can stand for nought shows how the effort to hide his love for years and years seems to have made Clare express it all the more. The music contrasts a kind of ‘contained’ manner of expression with the violence of Clare’s feelings which refuse to be stifled. Again and again he can’t help himself expressing his love through his poetry.

O wert thou in the storm is a love poem inspired by a poem by Robert Burns:

O wert thou in the cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
My plaidie to the angry airt,
I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee;
Or did Misfortune's bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
Thy bield should be my bosom,
To share it a', to share it a'.

Robert Burns was one of several personae which Clare adopted in his long asylum years, writing many poems in Scottish dialect. The music of this setting keeps taking different turns towards resting places in different keys.

The fourth song With love alone to dwell uses a folk-inspired melody with a choral backing resembling a hypnotic incantation chanted over and over as a mantra-like comforting refrain. The theme is sung first by tenors and then by sopranos.

In composing these settings I felt the main challenges were to keep the musical language simple enough to match the direct expression in the words, and to translate Clare’s solo voice into the communal voice of a choir.

TEXTS

Clock-a-clay

In the cowslip's peeps I lye
Hidden from the buzzing fly
While green grass beneath me lies
Pearled wi' dew like fishes' eyes
Here I lie a clock-a-clay
Waiting for the time o' day

While grassy forests quake surprise
And the wild wind sobs and sighs
My gold home rocks as like to fall
On its pillar green and tall
When the pattering rain drives by
Clock-a-clay keeps warm and dry

Day by day and night by night
All the week I hide from sight
In the cowslip's peeps I lie
In rain and dew still warm and dry
Day and night and night and day
Red black-spotted clock-a-clay

My home it shakes in wind and showers
Pale green pillar topt wi' flowers
Bending at the wild wind's breath
Till I touch the grass beneath
Here still I live lone clock-a-clay
Watching for the time of day

No single hour (Clare's title is SONG)

No single hour can stand for nought
No moment-hand can move
But calendars an aching thought
Of my first lonely love

Where silence doth the loudest call
My secrets to betray
As moonlight holds the night in thrall
As suns reveal the day,

I hide it in the silent shades
Till silence finds a tongue
I make its grave where time invades
Till time becomes a song.

I bid my foolish heart be still
But hopes will not be chid
My heart will beat - and burn - and chill,
First love will not be hid.

When summer ceases to be green
And winter bare and blea -
Death may forget what I have been
But I shall cease to be.

When words refuse before the crowd
My Mary’s name to give
The muse in silence sings aloud
And there my love will live.

O wert thou in the storm

O wert thou in the storm
How I would shield thee:
To keep thee dry and warm
A camp I would build thee.

Though the clouds pour'd again
Not a drop should harm thee,
The music of wind and rain
Rather should charm thee.

O wert thou in the storm
A shed I would build thee;
To keep thee dry and warm,
How I would shield thee.

The rain should not harm thee,
Not thunder-clap harm thee.
By thy side I would sit me,
To comfort and warm thee.

I would sit by thy side love,
While the dread storm was over
And the wings of an angel
My charmer would cover.

With love alone to dwell

I wish I was where I would be
With love alone to dwell
Was I but her or she but me
Then love would all be well
I wish to send my thoughts to her
As quick as thoughts can fly
But as the wind the waters stir
The mirrors change and flye

Little trotty wagtail

Little trotty wagtail he went in the rain
And tittering tottering sideways he ne'er got straight again
He stooped to get a worm and looked up to catch a fly
And then he flew away ere his feathers they were dry

Little trotty wagtail he waddled in the mud
And left his little foot marks trample where he would
He waddled in the water-pudge and waggle went his tail
And chirrupt up his wings to dry upon the garden rail

Little trotty wagtail you nimble all about
And in the dimpling water-pudge you waddle in and out
Your home is nigh at hand and in the warm pigsty
So little Master Wagtail I'll bid you a 'Good bye'.