Marcus Stone: Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
If music be the food of love,
Sing on till I am fill’d with joy;
For then my list’ning soul you move
To pleasures that can never cloy.
Your eyes, your mien, your tongue declare
That you are music ev’rywhere.
Pleasures invade both eye and ear,
So fierce the transports are, they wound,
And all my senses feasted are,
Tho’ yet the treat is only sound,
Sure I must perish by your charms,
Unless you save me in your arms.
Henry Purcell, “If music be the food of love”, Z. 379, from Gentleman’s Journal, June 1692.
Paul Nicholson, Richard Boothby, Nancy Argenta