Song picture
The Seed
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An original double sonnet about...well, it's a sonnet. What do you imagine it's about?
singersongwriter celtic medieval renaissance geekfolk
Artist picture
Drake Oranwood (Eric Schrager, he/him) is a singer, songwriter, and producer who brings modern sensibilities to original songs set long ago and far away
Drake Oranwood (Eric Schrager, he/him) is a singer, songwriter, producer, lutenist, and medieval enthusiast who brings modern sensibilities to original songs set long ago and far away. In the Society for Creative Anachronism, Drake is part of the bardic community, where original and period performances are shared at fire circles and waysides for weary travelers. (The general SCA term for an individual vocal performer is a bard). Drakes persona is an English composer and musician living in the sixteenth century. Drake is currently serving as Queens Bard for the East Kingdom.
Song Info
Genre
Acoustic • Acoustic Folk
Charts
Peak #325
Peak in subgenre #34
Author
Eric Schrager
Rights
2000 by Eric Schrager
Uploaded
October 28, 2015
Track Files
MP3
MP3 1.4 MB • 111 kbps • 1:49
Story behind the song
Poem, vocals: Eric Schrager Music, harp: Paul Butler Poem page: http://drakethebard.com/bardic/the-seed/
Lyrics
The sky and earth first meet the moment when The seed dives through the soil. If water she Provides it, and with strength and warmth should he Respond, when shoot breaks forth they touch again. One might refer to it as love, but too Soon is it yet, for many seeds that failed He's harbored; and thus far, none have prevailed Of all the young leaves she has whispered through. The nature of the plant is not in doubt, However; as to how and if it grows, The shape it takes, the sort of fruit that goes Forth from it—if you wait, you will find out; But in the seed must sky and earth invest Themselves, before its fullness can be guessed. I'll chance it on this seed—I need no reason Save it's to my liking. For its toil, I offer it my warmest, softest soil; A fertile spot for it to try the season. But now I worry for it—from the sky Poured rains which promised so that shoot and roots Came forth; but now inconstant wind disputes If green will grow before my land wears dry. Though Love must many seasons live and grow Before it blooms, the one in which it's sprung Is vital, as it struggles weak and young For purchase; now it most needs help. And so, I offer warmth and comfort to sustain This tender life—and pray for light and rain.
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