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The Day is Done

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About

Category
Choral
Instrumentation
Unaccompanied Choir
Duration
c. 6:30
Composed
2025
Premiered

The Day is Done is an unaccompanied choral setting of the poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The work draws inspiration from the choral writing of twentieth-century composers including Herbert Howells, Maurice Duruflé, Francis Poulenc and Olivier Messiaen.

It was premiered on 21st May 2025 in Clare Chapel, Cambridge, as part of a concert of English and French choral music organised by Thomas Alban, who also conducted the premiere.

An image of the premiere of Thomas Alban's The Day is Done, in Clare Chapel
The premiere of The Day is Done in Clare Chapel

Text

The Day is Done (Text: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labour,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

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