(Oxford Studies in Music Theory) Yonatan Malin - Songs in Motion - Rhythm An

Songs in Motion
OXFORD STUDIES IN MUSIC THEORY

Series Editor Richard Cohn
Studies in Music with Text , David Lewin

Music as Discourse: Semiotic Adventures in Romantic Music , Kofi Agawu
Metric Manipulations in Haydn and Mozart: Chamber Music for Strings,
1787–1791 , Danuta Mirka
Songs in Motion: Rhythm and Meter in the German Lied , Yonatan Malin
Songs in Motion
Rhythm and Meter in the German Lied
YONATAN MALIN
1 2010
1
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Malin, Yonatan, 1967–
Songs in motion : rhythm and meter in the German lied / Yonatan Malin.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-19-534005-1
1. Songs, German—19th century—History and criticism.
2. Musical meter and rhythm. I. Title.
ML2505.M35 2010
782.421680943—dc22 2009029697
Musical examples (marked in text with ) are available online at www.oup.com/us/songsinmotion
Publication of this book was supported by the John Daviero

Publication Endorsement Fund of the American Musicological Society.
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Printed in the United States of America
on acid-free paper
To my mother and father,
Tova and Shimon Malin
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Preface
Music and poetry happen in time; song happens in time. The temporal element is
unavoidable whether one is singing, playing, listening to a performance, listening
to a recording, composing, or recalling a song in the inner ear. All this may be
taken as a given, as it often is, but what if we focus on the temporal flow? What if
we focus on the rhythms of music and poetry, and of their union in song? What if
we notice them, feel them, reflect on them, work them like clay, and consider their
significance in a variety of musical, historical, and cultural contexts? That is the
goal of this book, and the result, I believe, will be a deepened awareness—
simultaneously of ourselves as musicians and of the expressive potential in song.
This book is about rhythm and meter in the nineteenth-century German Lied,
songs for voice and piano written by Fanny Hensel née Mendelssohn, Franz
Schubert, Robert Schumann, Johannes Brahms, and Hugo Wolf. The earliest of
these, by Schubert, were written in the 1810s, as the Napoleonic wars wound down
and the Treaty of Versailles established a new order. The last of them, by Brahms
and Wolf, were written in the 1890s, with nationalism in full swing. The industrial
revolution transformed European landscapes and economies during this period,
but there was also a deepening of subjectivity, a focused gaze inward to explore the
mysteries of the self. It is through song, as much as any other genre or form of
artistic expression, that the work of introspective observation took place, and its
legacy is unavoidable today.
The word “Lied,” which has been adopted in Anglo-American music theory
and musicology from German usage, refers to both poetry and song. (The plural,
“Lieder,” is also used.) German also has words for the poem on its own (Gedicht)
and for song (Gesang), but Lied refers to both at the same time. Heinrich Koch’s
Musical Lexicon of 1802 defines a Lied as “any lyrical poem [Gedicht] of several
strophes, which is intended for song [Gesang] and is bound with such a melody.”1
What does it mean for a lyrical poem to be both intended for song and bound with
such a melody? What are the poetic qualities that enable musical setting, and
where does the melody come from? Does the music merely provide a sympathetic
medium for actualizing the poetic text, as Goethe (the poet) suggests in an 1820
letter to Zelter (the composer): “I feel that your compositions are, so to speak,
identical with my songs; the music, like gas blown into a balloon, merely carries
1. Heinrich C. Koch, Musikalisches Lexikon (Frankfurt: A. Hermann dem jüngern, 1802), 901.
viii Preface
them into the heavens.”2 Or does the music actively interpret the text, adding its
own expressive and formal elements? Is the composed song really “a poem on the
poem” set to music, as Josef von Spaun suggests in his 1829 eulogy for Schubert?3
In the nineteenth-century Lied, music actively interprets the text, and one of
the best ways to understand what music adds is to consider rhythm and meter, in
the poetry and music. Poetic rhythm and meter gives each poem a particular feel,
through the arrangement of accented and unaccented syllables, line lengths, cae-
suras and enjambments, and other features. Nineteenth-century Lieder typically
follow basic elements of the verbal accentuation, setting accented syllables on the
beat, for instance, but there is always a transformation. Musical meter is more
strictly periodic, sung words are usually sustained longer than in speech, and the
expressive dictates of melody and line may override particularities of speech
accentuation. The interesting thing here is not so much the “problems” of decla-
mation (I am generally not interested in berating composers for poor declama-
tion), but the way in which musical rhythms respond to, intensify, and add to the
expressive potential of rhythm and meter in the poetry. How are the tetrameter or
pentameter lines of a poem set in a musical meter? What happens to the caesuras
and enjambments? What layering does the piano add, and what does its pulsating
or flowing accompaniment express vis-à-vis the song’s protagonist? How do all
these things contribute to “voice”—not only what a song says but how it says it?
Rhythm and meter are sometimes taken for granted in song analysis, as though
there is not much to say about them. In a discussion of Schubert’s “Gretchen am
Spinnrade” (Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel), for instance, Richard Taruskin
writes, “What really keeps this scene in motion, far beyond the mechanism of
mere scenic description, is the fluidly mobile tonal scheme, more an aspect of
narration—and then? and then?—than depiction.”4 The tonal scheme is certainly
significant, but I would say that the sense of motion derives from the arrangement
of text, harmony, and figuration in musical time. By attending closely to poetic
rhythms and musical phrase rhythms, we will gain new perspectives on Gretchen’s
psychological states and the song’s dramatic trajectory (see chap. 4). With this
book, I provide a language for talking about rhythm and meter in the Lied, one
that may be taken up in general histories (such as Taruskin’s), in the studio and
rehearsal session, in the music theory and music history classroom, and in further
analyses presented by and for the interpretive community of music theorists.
My sense, furthermore, is that a discussion of rhythm and meter may help
bridge these various contexts; it may promote conversations between performers,
music theorists, and music historians, and even beyond to those who listen to and
2. Quoted in Edward T. Cone, “Words into Music: The Composer’s Approach to the Text,” in Music:
A View from Delft, ed. Robert P. Morgan (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989 [1956]), 115.
3. Otto Erich Deutsch, The Schubert Reader, trans. Eric Blom (New York: Norton, 1947), 875; quoted in
David Lewin, “Auf dem Flusse: Image and Background in a Schubert Song,” in Studies in Music with
Text (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 110.
4. Richard Taruskin, The Oxford History of Western Music (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005),
3:151.
Preface ix
appreciate music but do not have further technical expertise. This was borne out
in a talk that I gave at the Center for Humanities at Wesleyan University in October
of 2008, a talk that included a detailed analysis of poetic rhythm and musical
phrase rhythm in “Gretchen am Spinnrade.” In the audience were musicians with
and without theory training, as well as students and colleagues from other fields.
Comments and questions afterward suggested that most in the audience were able
to engage actively with the analysis. The talk was, of course, performative; I illus-
trated the analysis by reading excerpts from the poem, singing, playing, counting,
and by tracing musical events on a visual diagram with the marvelous recording
by Elly Ameling and Jörg Demus.5 It is not possible to do all of this with the written
word, but it is certainly possible—indeed, it is essential—that the reader engage
musically in these and other ways.
Rhythm and meter are not always neglected in studies of the Lied. Significant
studies that address rhythmic features include Arnold Feil’s analyses of rhythm
and meter in Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin and Winterreise, Ann Clark Fehn and
Rufus Hallmark’s comprehensive analysis of Schubert’s pentameter line settings,
Rufus Hallmark’s primer on the rhythm of poetry and music in Schubert’s songs
(forthcoming), Susan Youens’ study of poetic rhythm and musical meter in
Schubert’s Winterreise, Harald Krebs’s analysis of phrase rhythm and hypermeter
in the songs of Josephine Lang and his current work on distortions of poetic
rhythm in late Schumann, Deborah Rohr’s dissertation on rhythm and meter in
Brahms’s songs, Carl Dahlhaus’s critical evaluation of declamation in Wolf ’s Italian
Songbook, and David Lewin’s virtuosic readings of selected songs by Schubert and
Schoenberg. What I offer here is a perspective on the genre as a whole, with analyses
of rhythm and meter in the poetic voices from Goethe and Hölty to Mörike and
Daumer, and the compositional voices from Hensel and Schubert to Brahms and
Wolf. At the same time, this book differs from most other studies of the genre in
two ways: first in the focus on rhythm and meter, and second in a methodology
that favors close engagement with individual songs over the broad survey. In each
chapter I choose a collection of songs that are representative in some way of the
composer’s approach to rhythm and meter, and I present close analytical and inter-
pretive readings of those songs.
One further precedent for the present study should be mentioned: Walter
Dürr’s Das deutsche Sololied im 19. Jahrhundert (the German solo song in the
nineteenth century), published in 1984. Dürr attends to the rhythms of language
and song, as I do here, and he also considers songs from throughout the nineteenth
century. Dürr works with the idea of “polyrhythm,” adapting the term from the
early nineteenth-century critic Hans Georg Nägeli, as I do here (see chap. 1). Why
another study along similar lines? First, Dürr’s work is not very well known among
Anglo-American scholars and performers; the language barriers are still a hin-
drance to many.6 Second, we may update the approach drawing on recent
5. Deutsche Harmonia Mundi 77085–2–RG.

6. Dürr’s book is not included, for instance, in the bibliography for a commonly used American text on
the Lied: Deborah J. Stein and Robert Spillman, Poetry into Song: Performance and Analysis of Lieder
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1996).
x Preface
developments in the theory of rhythm and meter. Third, and this is perhaps the
most significant reason, the value of Dürr’s work is precisely to open out an area of
investigation. While the approach here is similar, I explore different songs, situate
them in different contexts, and interpret them in new ways. Music analysis is like
performance; it involves interpretive readings of musical works. Any given anal-
ysis does not preclude other analyses, nor should it preclude further listening and
study. Analysis is ideally “dynamic and ongoing … subject only to provisional clo-
sure,” as Kofi Agawu has put it, and “like performance, [analysis] entails a fresh
engagement.”7 Now, twenty-five years after Dürr’s book appeared, it is time for a
fresh engagement with the rhythms of poetry and song.
The analytical approach here will vary from chapter to chapter and song to
song. Rather than imposing a set theoretical framework on the genre as a whole,
with its variety of song types and modes of expression, I develop approaches that
allow each song or set of songs to come forth. The goal, as Theodor Adorno puts it
in an article on music analysis, is to “get to know the work intimately.”8 This kind
of radical specificity in the practice of music analysis is analogous to the specificity
sought in anthropology; it is a form of “thick description.”9 In this sense, rhythm
and meter will be a way into the songs, and I will also consider layers of poetic
meaning, harmony, form (rhythm writ large), musical texture, dynamics, meaning,
and effect—the feeling of motion and flow or of stasis. All of these things will be in
play.
At the same time, there will be comparative moments and recurring issues.
First, I will be interested in relations between regularity and irregularity, in both
poetic and musical rhythms. This in itself provides a way into individual songs and
the genre as a whole. In songs by Schubert, for instance, moments of irregularity
often signal heightened emotion and the staging of a reflexive consciousness. The
continuum between absolutes of rhythmic regularity and irregularity is especially
interesting. It is a relatively understudied topic in music theory, and Lieder offer
special opportunities in this regard because of how the rhythms of poetry (both
regular and irregular) are taken up and transformed in song (both regular and
irregular). Second, I will be interested in how composers situate the poetic feet of
each line in a given musical meter. This again is not only a matter of “correct” dec-
lamation, but of voice and expression. Third, I will be interested in the layering of
rhythms, those of the poem, sung melody, and piano accompaniment. Such layer-
ings are essential to the expressive richness of the nineteenth-century Lied, in con-
trast with the simpler volkstümlich (folklike) Lied of the eighteenth century.
Specific analyses and the grouped analyses of songs by individual composers
will support several historical narratives, some aligned with traditional narratives
of the genre and others more unusual. It is clear, for instance, that Schubert’s songs
are foundational for the new conception of the genre in the nineteenth century. It
7. Kofi Agawu, “How We Got Out of Analysis, and How to Get Back In Again,” Music Analysis 23,
no. 2–3 (2004): 270, 274.
8. Theodor W. Adorno, “On the Problem of Musical Analysis,” Music Analysis 1, no. 2 (1982): 171.
9. See Mark J. Butler, Unlocking the Groove: Rhythm, Meter, and Musical Design in Electronic Dance
Music (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006), 17–18.
Preface xi
was Fanny Hensel, however, who had direct links with Zelter and Goethe in the
1810s and ’20s (she studied with Zelter and knew Goethe personally) and devel-
oped song styles that matched poetic developments and furthered musical devel-
opments through the 1830s and ’40s. Hensel’s relative neglect in Lied historiography
is a lingering byproduct of nineteenth-century restrictions that kept upper-class
women in the home, hindering both public performance and publication of their
compositional works. Traditional historiography situates Brahms and Wolf as
opposing forces in the later nineteenth century; they represent tradition versus
innovation and absolute music (even in song) versus the expressive dictates of the
new German school. I will not upend this tale, but I will show that Brahms and
Wolf responded in different ways to a common compositional and cultural dictate:
to form song compositions as performative readings of poems which themselves
were understood as self-sufficient artworks. This performative attitude was new in
the later nineteenth century, I argue, and it was part of a culture that was actively
forming its canons and national identity from material of the past.
There are, of course, voices left out in this history: Clara Schumann and Franz
Liszt come immediately to mind, and in the later history of the Lied, Mahler,
Strauss, and Schoenberg. It is not possible to be comprehensive, while also
providing in-depth studies of individual songs and compositional voices. My goal
here is to explore five such voices that span a range of styles and illustrate the
development of the genre through the century. Of those not included here, Clara
Schumann takes full advantage of her experience as a virtuoso pianist and com-
poser of music for piano and strings; her songs therefore include beautifully
formed layerings and moments of rhythmic irregularity.10 Franz Liszt’s eighty-
seven Lieder for voice and piano are less well known than his piano and symphonic
works; the songs are nonetheless worthy of performance and study. They include
radical forms of chromaticism and the kind of dramatic, rhythmically irregular
declamation that became a mark of “progressive” settings from midcentury on.11
Mahler and Strauss are both known for their orchestral songs; studies of rhythm
and meter in their songs would have to take into account the new public nature of
the genre. (In comparison, many of Wolf ’s songs, written in the late 1880s and the
’90s, maintain a more intimate character.) The rhythmic freedom and complexity
in many of Schoenberg’s atonal songs also demand new analytical approaches.
David Lewin’s work on rhythm and meter in Schoenberg’s vocal works is especially
valuable in this regard.12
10. For overviews of Clara Schumann’s songs, see Marcia J. Citron, “Women and the Lied, 1775–1850,”
in Women Making Music: The Western Art Tradition, 1150–1950, ed. Jane Bowers and Judith Tick
(Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1986), 224–48; and James Deaville, “A Multitude of Voices: The
Lied at Mid Century,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Lied, ed. James Parsons (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2004), 142–67. A close interpretive reading of Schumann’s “Ich Stand,”
with a metric reduction, can be found in David Lewin, Studies in Music with Text (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2006), chap. 7.
11. See Ulrich Mahlert, Fortschritt und Kunstlied: Späte Lieder Robert Schumanns im Licht der liedästhe-
tischen Diskussion ab 1848 (Munich: E. Katzbichler, 1983); and Rena Charnin Mueller, “The Lieder
of Liszt,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Lied, ed. James Parsons (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2004), 168–84.
12. Lewin, Studies in Music with Text, chaps. 16 and 17.
xii Preface
I explore metric features of Schoenberg’s songs in two articles that may be con-
sidered companions to the present volume.13 The first study, “Displacement
Dissonances and Romantic Longing in the German Lied,” provides a historical
perspective that leads from Schubert through Schumann and Brahms to
Schoenberg. It was in this paper that I began to develop an approach that links
close analysis of song with perspectives on style and subjectivity through the
nineteenth century (and into the twentieth century). The second study, “Metric
Analysis and the Metaphor of Energy,” grounds features of my analytical approach
in theories of metaphor and embodied meaning and includes analyses of two
songs by Wolf (“Um Mitternacht” and “An die Geliebte” from the Mörike songs)
and one by Schoenberg (the “Valse de Chopin” from Pierrot Lunaire). In both
previous studies and in my dissertation I focus on forms of metric disturbance.14
Here I consider rhythm and meter more broadly; I attend to poetic rhythms and
their transformation in song, to the formation of “consonant” as well as “disso-
nant” metric states, and to forms of regularity and irregularity in the poems and
their musical settings.
An Outline of the Book
The present volume is organized in two parts. Chapters 1–2 provide introductory
material, and chapters 3–7 focus on songs by Hensel, Schubert, Schumann,
Brahms, and Wolf. The introductory chapters have two goals: to introduce meth-
odology and provide background for those less familiar with the topics at hand.
Chapter 1 begins with an overview of poetic meter and rhythm; I introduce basic
terminology and common rhythmic features of the poetry that is at the source of
the genre. Most of the examples are excerpts from poems to which I later return,
with their musical settings. I then consider the transformations that take place as
poems are set to music. I introduce a new method for tracing this transformation,
one that specifies and succinctly references the placement of poetic feet, lines, and
couplets in a given musical meter. The logic and range of possibilities for this
placement have not been previously recognized, especially in settings of tetram-
eter and pentameter lines (i.e., those with four and five accented syllables per line).
To illustrate the method, I survey settings by Schubert, Hensel, and Schumann,
and here again I introduce songs that are later explored in greater depth. Poetic
and musical rhythms of course do not always align; I conclude chapter 1 by intro-
ducing the idea of “polyrhythm” in the Lied and tracing its origins to Hans Georg
Nägeli. Quite remarkably, Nägeli wrote in 1817 about a “new epoch” in song com-
position, an epoch that would feature a polyrhythm of speech, singing, and playing.
13. Yonatan Malin, “Metric Analysis and the Metaphor of Energy: A Way into Selected Songs by Wolf
and Schoenberg,” Music Theory Spectrum 30, no. 1 (2008): 61–87; and “Metric Displacement
Dissonance and Romantic Longing in the German Lied,” Music Analysis 25, no. 3 (2006): 251–88.
14. Yonatan Malin, “Metric Dissonance and Music-Text Relations in the German Lied” (PhD diss.,
University of Chicago, 2003).
Preface xiii
Recent theories of voice and persona in the Lied, which I review, align in inter-
esting, previously unrecognized ways with Nägeli’s ideas.
Meter and rhythm have been hot topics in music theory in the past twenty-five
years. In chapter 2, I review these developments and show how they apply in the
genre of the Lied. Topics include the formation of metric hierarchies, metric per-
ception, hypermeter and phrase rhythm, metric conflicts, and relations between
rhythm and meter. (Broadly speaking, “rhythm” refers to all forms of durational
patterning, and “meter” refers to the perception of regular pulses: the beat, its divi-
sions, and groupings. These definitions are controversial, however, as we will see in
chapter 2.) Also, whereas chapter 1 focuses mainly on the poetry and its setting in
vocal melody, chapter 2 moves on to consider interactions with the piano accom-
paniments. Examples include excerpts from songs by Hensel, Schubert, Schumann,
and Brahms.
Chapters 3–7 intersperse observations about style and historical context with
close readings of individual songs. Chapter 3 is on a collection of songs by
Hensel, the six songs of her Op. 1 collection and the first of her Op. 7. We are
introduced to Hensel’s compositional voice: its fluid lyricism, repetitions and
expansions at the ends of strophes and sections, phrase elisions, and responsive-
ness to poetic texts. The seven songs considered here trace a path of increasing
complexity and richness, from the “pleasing” and predominantly volkstümlich
(folklike) style advocated for her (as a woman) by her father, Abraham
Mendelssohn, to that of an independent, playful, and audacious composer. With
these songs we are also introduced to three of the most significant poetic voices
of the genre: Goethe, Heine, and Eichendorff.
The connection between rhythmic repetition and motion is especially strong
in Schubert’s songs; this will be our focus in chapter 4. The selection of songs
includes early Goethe settings (from 1814–15) and selected songs from the late
cycle Winterreise (1827). I consider extremes of motion and stillness, and the
emergence of a reflective self in moments of rhythmic irregularity. The idea will be
that the lyric persona may break out of the frame of rhythmic regularity to express
something out of the ordinary, and this commonly occurs as he or she realizes the
full pain of loss. The reflective moment is one of greater objectivity, but also one of
greater feeling.
In contrast with this, Schumann’s lyric personae seem imprisoned within;
Roland Barthes describes Schumann as “the musician of solitary intimacy.”15
Doubling and reverberation between the piano and voice in Schumann’s songs
creates a kind of interior resonance; this will be the subject of chapter 5. I consider
selected songs from Dichterliebe, Op. 48, and the Eichendorff Liederkreis, Op. 39.
Schumann’s late songs, on the other hand, mark a departure, a turning point for
Schumann and the genre as a whole with new, more dramatic and flexible forms of
declamation. This shift, which sets the stage for both Brahms and Wolf, occurs
precisely as political revolutions spread throughout the German-speaking lands,
15. Roland Barthes, “Loving Schumann,” in The Responsibility of Forms: Critical Essays on Music, Art,
and Representation, ed. and trans. Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 1985), 293.
xiv Preface
and, indeed, the political and artistic movements are intertwined. I shall review
the debates of the time and consider the rhythmic flexibility and expressive power
of one of the late songs, “Einsamkeit,” Op. 90 No. 5.
A comparison of Brahms’s setting of the Eichendorff poem “In der Fremde”
(from 1852) and Schumann’s setting (from 1840) reveals something rather inter-
esting: Brahms, much more than Schumann, conceived of his song as a musical
performance of a poetic reading. I begin chapter 6 with this comparison, and then
I relate Brahms’s approach to his documented statements about song composition
and to his position as a song composer in the later nineteenth century. The perfor-
mative approach is one that takes the poem and its reading as a given; it is a dis-
tancing attitude that is characteristic of later nineteenth-century historicism and
cultural canonization. (Brahms’s “musical performances” of poetic readings
of course do not feature the kind of precise declamation we associate with Wolf;
I discuss this further in chaps. 6 and 7.) Song analyses that follow focus on Brahms’s
delineation of character and voice by rhythmic means, on the intricate relations
between poetic and musical rhythms in his setting of asclepiadic odes by Hölty,
and on rhythm and desire in the setting of a poem by Daumer.
The central question, as we turn to Wolf in chapter 7, is how he gives the
impression of consummate declamation even as he goes beyond the literal rhythms
of speech. I shall argue that the flexibility and realism of Wolf ’s declamation are
not without their own structuring principles, and indeed it is such principles that
heighten the expression so beautifully. For points of comparison I turn back to
Schubert; I will compare passages from Schubert’s and Wolf ’s settings of “Ganymed”
(by Goethe) and the two composers’ approaches to pentameter lines in other songs.
(This updates and responds to work by Fehn and Hallmark on Schubert’s pentam-
eter settings.) Wolf ’s “Im Frühling,” setting a poem by Mörike, is a stunning example
of a song that is both fluid and periodic, both regular and irregular. To get into the
song, to understand its magic, I listen, sing, and play with and against the layers of
poetic and musical rhythm—and I invite the reader to do so with me.
Poetic Texts and Translations
I cite sources for the poetic texts with each poem in chapters 3–7. The poetic
excerpts in chapters 1–2 follow the sources or editions cited in later chapters.
Translations are provided for all the poems. The translations are intended pri-
marily as guides to the German texts; the syntax and flow of the German is there-
fore respected as much as possible. I frequently adapt previously published
translations. Citations to the sources are provided with the translations of longer
excerpts or full poems (i.e., not with the brief poetic excerpts in chaps. 1–2, if the
same translations also appear later on).
Acknowledgments
This book would not have come about in the form that it has without the early
support and interest of Richard Cohn, editor of the Oxford Studies in Music
Theory. It has also been a pleasure to work with Suzanne Ryan, music editor for
Oxford University Press. Suzanne’s patience and flexibility have been helpful
throughout. I owe a debt of gratitude to the anonymous reviewers of the proposal
and manuscript; their detailed readings and comments helped me refine many
aspects of the book. It was with their encouragement that I developed the material
of the first two chapters into the form that it has taken today—material that I hope
will make the book accessible to a wider audience.
This project has benefited from my conversations and correspondence with
Harald Krebs and from his 2005 workshop at the Mannes Institute for Advanced
Studies in Music Theory. Harald has been generous with his time and his responses
to my work, even as we approach similar projects in different ways. It has also
benefited from conversations with Robert Hatten about gesture and embodied
meaning, with Rufus Hallmark about the analysis of poetic and musical structures,
and with Peter Martens about the psychological literature on beat finding. My
ideas about musical settings of poetic enjambment crystallized in conversations
with Deborah Witkin, a former undergraduate at Wesleyan University. Seminars
at the University of Chicago with Lawrence Zbikowski, Richard Cohn, and
Berthold Hoeckner helped me develop my understanding of song analysis, metric
theory, and Romanticism.
Gurminder Bhogal, Daphne Leong, and Heather Platt provided valuable com-
ments on individual chapters. Shimon Malin provided helpful comments on the
introduction, and Melissa Lane on the book proposal. Dagmar Kramer provided
proofreading assistance and comments on the German translations.
I am grateful for the support and encouragement of my colleagues at Wesleyan
University; Jane Alden, Neely Bruce, Eric Charry, Ron Kuivila, Mark Slobin, and
Su Zheng gave constructive feedback to my colloquia and works-in-progress talks.
An invitation from Katherine Kuenzli in the Art History department at Wesleyan
led me to explore Max Klinger’s Brahms Fantasy, discussed in the epilogue, and
I thank Clare Rogan, curator of the Davison Art Center, for providing access to the
work and for our many conversations about it. Robert Lancefield, manager of
museum information services at the Davison Art Center, provided formatting
assistance for the image from Klinger’s Brahms Fantasy.
xvi Acknowledgments
I have benefited from and would like to acknowledge the institutional support
of Wesleyan University. This includes assistance from Alec McLane, music
librarian; Sandra Brough, Hope McNeil, and Deborah Shore, administrative staff
in the Music Department; and Dan Schnaidt, academic computing manager for
the arts and humanities at Wesleyan. Sally Norris, Marcelo Rilla, Phillip Schulze,
and Emily Sheehan contributed as research assistants. Institutional support also
came in the forms of a faculty fellowship at the Center for the Humanities at
Wesleyan University and a Wesleyan publication assistance grant. A subvention
grant from the Society for Music Theory further supported the preparation of
musical examples; these were typeset with care and attention to detail by Don
Giller. Daphne Leong sponsored me as a visiting scholar at the University of
Colorado at Boulder, and Constance Stallard was extremely helpful in the music
library at CU–Boulder.
I especially would like to thank my wife, Diana Lane. Diana provided a
sounding board for ideas and methods at all stages of the project, comments on
multiple drafts, and editing and proofreading assistance. I thank my daughters,
Sarah and Avivah, for their patience as I have been engrossed in this project and
for all their singing.
Contents
About the Musical Examples and Companion Web Site xix
PART I
Rhythm and Meter in the German Lied 1

1. The Rhythms of Poetry and Song 3
2. Theories of Musical Rhythm and Meter 35
PART II
Songs in Motion 67
3. Hensel: Lyrical Expansions, Elisions, and Rhythmic Flow 69
4. Schubert: Repetition, Motion, and Reflection 95
5. Schumann: Doubling and Reverberation 123
6. Brahms: Metric Cycles and Performative Time 145
7. Wolf: Syncopation and the Rhythms of Speech 177
Epilogue: Song Analysis and Musical Pleasure 207
Bibliography 213
Index 223
About the Musical Examples and Companion Web Site
www.oup.com/us/songsinmotion
I provide short musical examples here in the book and longer examples on a
companion Web site, hosted by Oxford University Press: www.oup.com/us/
songsinmotion. The Web examples are in pdf format; they may be downloaded
and viewed on screen or printed for ease of use with the book—and for singing and
playing. Examples in the book are referenced in the ordinary way, e.g., “ex. 2.1.”
Web examples are referenced in the form “ex. 3.1(web),” with the symbol .
Most of the examples follow editions that are in the public domain. These
include the Dover editions for songs by Schubert, Schumann, Brahms, and Wolf,
and the Bote and Bock edition of Hensel’s songs Opp. 1 and 7. Issues raised by
critical editions are discussed as and when they pertain to the individual
analyses.
I discuss some songs briefly without musical examples; for these the reader
may consult the widely available Dover editions or other scores. There are also
scores for these songs available online at the International Music Score Library
Project (IMSLP) and other places.1
1. “IMSLP / Petrucci Music Library,” http://imslp.org/wiki/Main_Page (accessed October 28, 2008).

PART I
Rhythm and Meter in the

German Lied
CHAPTER One
The Rhythms of Poetry and Song
The nineteenth-century Lied has a number of characteristic rhythmic features. The

poems, first of all, are commonly in accentual-syllabic verse, that is, with alternating
patterns of accented and unaccented syllables. Poetic lines tend to be short, with three
or four accented syllables per line, and the lines typically combine to form couplets,
which in turn combine to form quatrains. Cross rhymes (abab) are common, as are
other patterns that reinforce the rhythms of the couplet and quatrain (abcb and
aabb). There are then common procedures for setting these poetic rhythms to music.
Settings are mostly syllabic, and accented syllables are set on the beat in a given musical
meter. Lines are commonly set in two-measure phrase segments, couplets in four-
measure phrases, and quatrains in eight-measure strophes. In simple folklike songs,
the piano supports the voice with chords, frequently in arpeggiated textures. In more
complex settings, the piano generates further rhythmic and melodic layers to reinforce
the mood of the poem or depict particular forms of motion: walking motion, waves in
the water, the beating of the heart, wind in the trees, or the fall of a frozen teardrop.
These are the basic rhythms of the Lied; they are fairly simple. And yet each
poet and composer, each poem and song, each quatrain and musical strophe, each
couplet and musical phrase, each line and phrase segment, each poetic foot and
rhythmic gesture may work within, against, or outside these norms in a variety of
ways. It is this range of rhythmic and metric possibilities at multiple levels that is
so fascinating, for it contributes to the expressive range and richness of the genre.
The purpose of this chapter is to introduce the range of rhythmic possibilities and
to develop a set of concepts and tools for discussing them. We will focus here
mainly on the poem and vocal line; interactions with the piano will be considered
in chapter 2 and in the analyses of chapters 3–7.
Much has been made of the transformation that takes place when poetic
rhythms are set to music.1 At a basic level, poetic meter is not the same as musical
1. See Martin Boykan, “Reflections on Words and Music,” Musical Quarterly 84, no. 1 (2000): 123–36;
Jack M. Stein, Poem and Music in the German Lied from Gluck to Hugo Wolf (Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press, 1971), 9–13; and Susan Youens, “Poetic Rhythm and Musical Metre in
Schubert’s Winterreise,” Music and Letters 65, no. 1 (1984): 29–30.
3
4 PART I Rhythm and Meter in the German Lied
meter. The patterns of accented and unaccented syllables do not typically form
regular (i.e., perceptually isochronous) pulses like those of musical meter. Musical
settings also specify the rhythm of performance to a much greater degree; they are
in this sense particular “readings” of the poems in time. Even with agreement about
poetic meter and further levels of accentuation, there are a variety of ways that one
can read a given poem.2 There are, furthermore, multiple forms of stress in musical
settings, which may or may not coincide with verbal stress and the rhythmic shape
of poetic lines. In addition to the accentual structure of musical meter, there are
rhythmic stresses generated by melodic contour, dynamic accent, agogic accent,
change of harmony, and other features. (For more on musical accent and its rela-
tion to rhythm and meter, see chap. 2.)
One may not always want to emphasize the differences between poetic and
musical rhythms, however, for many of the poems set in the genre of the Lied were
intended from the beginning for musical setting and may have been composed
with musical rhythms in mind. Goethe, whose poetic oeuvre has been described as
the “source and catalyst for the Lied,” frequently wrote poems to preexistent tunes.3
Goethe also famously wrote in his poem “An Lina,” “Nur nicht lesen! immer sin-
gen!” (Only don’t read it! Always sing it!).4 Interestingly, the act of poetic reading
itself becomes paradigmatic in the later nineteenth century, and this affects the
manner of musical setting.
We will begin, nonetheless, with poetic meter and rhythm, and then con-
sider musical settings. This will help clarify the defaults and range of possibil-
ities for musical settings of poetic texts in the genre of the Lied. It will also focus
our attention on the expressive and representational aspects of poetic meter
and rhythm. These frequently do carry over and become part of the song, even
as they are re-formed within the periodic structures of musical rhythm and
meter.
Poetic Meter and Rhythm
Poetic Meter
Meter in accentual-syllabic poetry is defined by two things: (1) the patterning of

accented and unaccented syllables, and (2) the line length measured in the number
of accented syllables or “poetic feet.” Both of these features, however, may be either
2. Michael Cherlin illustrates this with a detailed and subtle analysis of a poem by Dickinson and its
setting by Copland; see Cherlin, “Thoughts on Poetry and Music, on Rhythms in Emily Dickinson’s
‘The World Feels Dusty’ and Aaron Copland’s Setting of It,” Intégral 5 (1991): 55–75. See also Edward
T. Cone, “Words into Music: The Composer’s Approach to the Text,” in Music: A View from Delft, ed.
Robert P. Morgan (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989 [1956]), 118–19.
3. See Harry Seelig, “The Literary Context: Goethe as Source and Catalyst,” in German Lieder in the
Nineteenth Century, ed. Rufus Hallmark (New York: Schirmer Books, 1996), 4–5. We will explore one
such poem, the “Schäfers Klagelied,” in chap. 4.
4. Goethe’s “An Lina” is quoted in Seelig, “The Literary Context,” 3.
CHAPTER 1 The Rhythms of Poetry and Song 5
regular or irregular.5 “Free rhythm” in German poetry uses variable numbers of

unaccented syllables between each accented syllable, and variable line lengths.
Goethe’s “Ganymed,” for instance, begins,
Wíe im Mórgenglánze As in the morning brilliance

Dú rings mich ánglühst, You glow, surrounding me,
Frǘhling, Gelíebter! Spring, beloved!
The first line has three poetic feet (= three accented syllables), the second and third
have two. The first line proceeds with a regular alteration of accented and unac-
cented syllables; the second and third lines have pairs of unaccented syllables bet-
ween the first and second accented syllables. The second line proceeds straight
through, the third has a comma, an internal caesura. There are no rhymes to create
periodic structures and associations. The focus is on each word, line, and phrase, as
they contribute to the syntax and expression of the moment. As we shall see,
musical settings may work such poetic rhythms into recurring, more strictly
periodic structures, or they may follow the poetic irregularities, while still adding
their own pulse layers. (We shall explore settings of “Ganymed” by Schubert and
Wolf in chap. 7.)
Regular poetic meters occur in a variety of common patterns. As we have noted
already, quatrains frequently have trimeter lines (with three accented syllables per
line), tetrameter lines (with four accented syllables per line), or a combination of
the two. When trimeter and tetrameter lines combine, they frequently do so in
alternating patterns, with the tetrameter line first and the trimeter line second.
This pairing marks out the couplets, as in the following quatrain from Heine’s
“Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass” (Why then are the roses so pale), set in
Hensel’s Op. 1 No. 3:
Warúm sind dénn die Rósen so bláss, Why then are the roses so pale,
O sprích mein Liéb warúm? O speak, my love, why?
Warúm sind dénn im grǘnen Grás Why then in the green grass
Die bláuen Veílchen so stúmm? Are the blue violets so silent?
The tetrameter lines lead on, the trimeter lines end earlier and create a stronger
sense of closure. Notice that the couplet rhythm is also reinforced by the rhyme
5. See Wolfgang Kayser, Kleine deutsche Versschule, 26th ed. (Tübingen: A. Francke, 1999), 21–35. The
following exposition draws especially on Kayser’s book, which has a practical use of poetic termi-
nology, historical perspectives, and a sensitivity to qualities of motion and expression. Stein and
Spillman provide an introduction to form and meter in the poetry of the Lied with particular attention
to performers’ concerns; see Deborah J. Stein and Robert Spillman, Poetry into Song: Performance and
Analysis of Lieder (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), 33–45. Robert Hatten presents methods
and materials for teaching poetic analysis in the context of an undergraduate music seminar; see
Hatten, “Teaching ‘Music and the Poetic Text,’” Indiana Theory Review 26 (2005): 37–71. Accounts of
rhythm, meter, and form in English verse are also relevant to students of the Lied; see, for instance,
John Hollander, Rhyme’s Reason: A Guide to English Verse, 3rd ed. (New Haven, CT: Yale University
Press, 2001); and Mary Kinzie, A Poet’s Guide to Poetry (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999).
scheme, abab, and that it aligns with poetic logic and syntax. The second line reit-
erates the first with an address to the beloved, and the third and fourth lines com-
bine into a single sentence. Both couplets begin with the question “Warum sind
denn . . .?”
In readings of “Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass” and other poems like it,
there is a natural pause after the trimeter lines. This is part of what creates a sense
of closure at the end of each couplet, and it translates into longer pauses in musical
settings. It has also led poetic theorists to describe trimeter lines as tetrameter lines
with a silent last foot.6 Even when a poem consists entirely of trimeter lines, one
may read each line with a silent “beat” at the end. We shall nonetheless distinguish
between trimeter lines and tetrameter lines, for the difference has significant impli-
cations for musical settings.
Now let us turn to the patterning of accented and unaccented syllables, again
with the quatrain from Heine’s “Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass” as an initial
example. We may represent the accentual structure of the quatrain above schemat-
ically with “-” for the accented syllables and “u” for the unaccented syllables:
u-u-u-uu-
u-u-u-
u-u-u-u-
u-u-uu-
The syllables thus alternate in a regular pattern, with exceptions in the first and
fourth lines. By grouping syllables from the beginning of each line we get a series
of iambs—disyllabic feet in the pattern unaccented-accented (u -). (The added
unaccented syllables in the first and fourth lines create anapests (u u -); we shall
come back to these presently.) Grouping poetic feet from line beginnings is a
convention of poetic analysis, but it is not unrelated to experience. Contrast the
feel of “Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass” with the first stanza from Müller’s
“Wasserflut” (Deluge), set in Schubert’s Winterreise No. 6:
Mánche Trä́n’ aus meínen Aúgen Many a tear from my eyes

Íst gefállen ín den Schnée; Has fallen in the snow;
Seíne kálten Flócken sáugen Its cold flakes drink up
Dúrstig eín das heísse Wéh. thirstily the hot sorrow.
The syllables here may be grouped in trochees—disyllabic feet in the pattern

accented-unaccented (- u). The “downbeat” beginning, together with the regular
alternation of accented and unaccented syllables, creates a stronger or starker
rhythm, something less flowing and easy. Kayser describes trochaic meter as some-
what harder, more staccato, and harsher than iambic.7 Trochaic meter is also less
amenable to variation, as we shall see. Trochaic meter is less common than iambic
in German, as in English poetry.
6. See Kayser, Kleine deutsche Versschule, 23.

7. Kayser, Kleine deutsche Versschule, 27.
The trochee and iamb are the two forms of disyllabic feet. The trisyllabic feet
are the upbeat-oriented anapest (u u -), the downbeat oriented dactyl (- u u), and
the amphibrach with an accented syllable in the middle (u - u). It will be useful on
occasion to have these terms at hand, but we will be less concerned with the differ-
ences between them. As Kayser observes, groupings that yield the three trisyllabic
feet are sometimes arbitrary.8 The main point is that trisyllabic feet include pairs of
unaccented syllables between accented syllables, and thus they generate faster or
more fluid forms of motion. Mörike’s “Um Mitternacht” (At Midnight), set by Wolf
(No. 19 from the Mörike songs), illustrates this beautifully. Mörike begins in iambic
meter and then adds faster moving trisyllabic feet in lines 5–8 (the translation is
provided below):
Gelássen stiég die Nácht an’s Lánd, u-u-u-u-

Lehnt trä́umend án der Bérge Wánd, u-u-u-u-
Ihr Áuge siéht die góldne Wáge nún u-u-u-u-u-
Der Zeít in gleíchen Schálen stílle rúhn; u-u-u-u-u-
Und kécker ráuschen die Quéllen hervór, u-u-uu-uu-
Sie síngen der Mútter, der Nácht, ins Óhr u-uu-uu-u-
Vom Táge, u-u
Vom héute gewésenen Táge. u-uu-uu-u
Calmly the night rose onto the land,
Leans dreamily against the wall of the mountains,
Her eye now sees the golden balance
Of time resting still in equal scales;
And the springs gush out more boldly,
They sing into the ear of the mother, the night, Of
the day,
The day that was today.9
The “calm” disyllabic feet (iambs) depict the slow rise of night in lines 1–4; the
faster trisyllabic feet emerge with the bold and more energetic springs, which
oppose the night. With this poem in front of us, we may also note how Mörike cal-
ibrates the poetic motion by shifting from iambic tetrameter (lines 1–2) to iambic
pentameter (lines 3–4). Lines 3–4 and 5–6 have the same number of syllables, but
whereas lines 3–4 feel measured, lines 5–6 rush by impulsively. The short line
seven, “Vom Tage,” puts a brake on things before the reminiscence of the last line.
(I will consider the enjambment in lines 3–4 presently.)
Some poems shift more freely between disyllabic and trisyllabic feet. Here are
the first four lines from Eichendorff ’s “In der Fremde” (In a Foreign Land), set in
Schumann’s Op. 39 No. 1 and Brahms’s Op. 3 No. 5:
Aus der Heímat hínter den Blítzen rót uu-u-uu-u-

Da kómmen die Wólken hér, u-uu-u-
(continued )
8. Kayser, Kleine deutsche Versschule, 33.
9. The translation is adapted from William Mann’s translation in the liner notes for the Mörike-Lieder
recording by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau and Gerald Moore, EMI CMS 763563 2.
Aber Váter und Mútter sind lánge tódt, uu-uu-uu-u-

Es kénnt mich dort keíner méhr. u-uu-u-
From my home beyond the red lightning
come the clouds,
But father and mother are long dead,
No one knows me there anymore.
In this case, there is still some patterning, which reinforces the couplet structure
and alternation of tetrameter and trimeter lines. The first and third are tetrameter
lines; they have the same accentual structure except in the span between the first
and second accented syllables. The second and fourth are trimeter lines, with the
same accentual structure. This kind of fluid patterning creates yet further shaping
for the lines, couplets, and quatrains.
Thus far we have considered so-called free rhythm in German poetry, the
common occurrence of trimeter and tetrameter lines and their role in forming
couplets and quatrains, the contrast between iambic and trochaic meters, and the
placement and rhythmic effects of trisyllabic feet. There are two remaining issues
that will be referenced frequently in the metric analysis of poems: the accentual
nature of line endings and the use of pentameter and other line lengths.
Since the line is such a basic rhythmic unit in poetry, the ending of the line
strongly affects its overall feel, much as a musical cadence affects the feel of its
phrase. Lines may have unaccented or accented endings; the unaccented ending is
open (relatively speaking) and is frequently used for the first line of a couplet, the
accented ending is closed (relatively speaking) and is frequently used for the second
line of a couplet.10 This basic pattern occurs in the quatrain from “Wasserflut,”
quoted above; here is the first couplet again: “Mánche Trän’ ́ aus meínen Aúgen / íst
gefállen ín den Schnée.” In poems such as “Wasserflut,” which are in trochaic tetram-
eter, the unaccented ending leads on directly to the accented “downbeat” that begins
the following line. In iambic poems, the unaccented ending is followed by an unac-
cented line beginning. Recall also that one may read trimeter lines, both iambic and
trochaic, with a silent fourth “beat”; this affects the flow from one line to the next.
As we shall see, there are varying options for the treatment of unaccented line end-
ings in musical settings, depending on the line length, the chosen musical meter,
and the relative continuity or discontinuity desired in the musical setting.
Trimeter and tetrameter lines are normative in the Lied, but other line lengths
are not uncommon. Schubert’s “Gretchen am Spinnrade” (Gretchen at the Spinning
Wheel) is perhaps the most famous setting of a poem with dimeter lines. Here is
the refrain of Goethe’s poem:
Meine Rúh ist hín, My peace is gone,

Mein Hérz ist schwér; My heart is heavy;
Ich fínde sie nímmer I shall find them never
Und nímmerméhr. And nevermore.
10. These are the “feminine” and “masculine” endings of traditional poetic theory.
The brevity of the lines is a rarely mentioned factor in the poem and Schubert’s ground-
breaking setting. The implication for analysis is not only that each text line is short, but
also that the link from line to line in both text and music is variable and important. In
the other direction, Schumann’s “Ich grolle nicht” (I Bear No Grudge), from Dichterliebe,
is a well-known setting of a pentameter poem. Heine’s poem begins
Ich grólle nícht, und wénn das Hérz auch brícht,

Éwig verlórnes Liéb! ich grólle nícht.
I bear no grudge, though my heart may break,
Eternally lost love! I bear no grudge.11
Schumann repeats sections of lines and breaks them up in various ways in his
setting, and thus the sense of pentameter lines is no longer so clear.12 What is none-
theless interesting and typical of pentameter lines is the fact that they include more
internal caesuras than do shorter lines. Schumann’s separation and repetition of
line segments is one response to these caesuras; we will consider others and the
issue of how composers fit the five accented syllables into predominantly binary
rhythmic structures. Hexameter lines are not very common in the Lied. We will
consider the particular hexameter structures of asclepiadic odes by Hölty in con-
nection with Brahms’s settings in chapter 6.
Poetic Rhythm
The recurring patterns of stress and line that define poetic meter get us only so far
toward a full understanding of poetic motion. There are further variations and sub-
tleties of stress and flow, rhythmic effects that may work with or against the poetic
meter and that may or may not be reflected in the musical setting. The relationship
between poetic rhythm and meter is analogous to the relationship between musical
rhythm and meter. In both cases, “meter” refers to recurring patterns that set up
expectations for the listener and reader, and “rhythm” refers to the individuality of
stress or durational patterning. In both cases, rhythm and meter are conceptual cat-
egories that overlap in practice. Recurring rhythmic patterns, for instance, may be
heard as “metric,” and meter may be shaped in particular “rhythmic” ways. We shall
return to this issue in chapter 2. The main point here will be to develop a further
sensitivity to poetic flow, beyond the basics of poetic meter.
We will be concerned with three rhythmic effects. First, there are substitutions
of poetic feet, most commonly trochees (- u) in place of iambs (u -). Second, there
are degrees of accentuation beyond the basic accented/unaccented dichotomy.
Third, there are effects that undermine the periodicity of the poetic line: caesuras
11. The translation is adapted from Philip L. Miller, The Ring of Words: An Anthology of Song Texts
(Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1966), 105.
12. Edward Cone explores and defends the text repetition in Schumann’s setting; see Cone, “Words into
Music,” 120–22. Finson remarks on the pentameter lines and Schumann’s “quadratic” setting; see Jon
Finson, Robert Schumann: The Book of Songs (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), 65.
within lines (mentioned above in connection with the pentameter lines of “Ich
grolle nicht”) and enjambments linking one line to the next.
Heine’s “Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen” (When I hear the song ringing out), set
in Schumann’s Dichterliebe, is in iambic trimeter, but it begins with a trochee. Here
is the first quatrain:
Hö́r’ ich das Líedchen klíngen, When I hear the song ringing,
Das éinst die Líebste sáng, which once my sweetheart sang,
So wíll mir die Brúst zerspríngen, then my heart wants to burst,
Vor wíldem Schmérzendráng. from the pressure of savage pain.
It is typical that the trochee substitutes for an iamb at the beginning of a line, as
here. The “downbeat” beginning creates a particular form of emphasis, a jolt or call
to attention. In “Hör’ich das Liedchen” the jolt may be heard as an emotional
response of the poetic persona.
Polysyllabic words have accentual structures that generally determine the
poetic reading; in contrast, successions of monosyllabic words may allow for ambi-
guity or multiple plausible readings. Thus, for instance, the accentual structure of
“Gelássen” determines how one reads the beginning of Wolf ’s “Um Mitternacht,”
cited above, but the following line from Geibel’s “Gondellied” (Song of the
Gondolier) may be read in two different ways: “dann schwébt mit úns in
Mó́ndesprácht” or “dánn schwebt mit úns in Móndesprácht.” Hensel sets this line
multiple times in her song Op. 1 No. 6, and she uses both readings (see ex. 3.9).
The line “Fremd bin ich eingezogen” (A stranger I arrived) from Müller’s “Gute
Nacht” (Goodnight) has an interesting accentual profile, which is beautifully
reflected in Schubert’s setting (Winterreise No. 1). The basic meter is iambic,“Fremd
bín ich éingezógen,” but a reading should also emphasize the first word, “Fremd”
(a stranger). This word indicates the Wanderer’s alienation from society, a central
theme of the entire cycle. As both Hans Gál and Susan Youens have observed,
Schubert provides accents for both of the first two monosyllabic words.13 “Fremd”
receives a registral accent since it is the highest note in the phrase, and “bin”
receives a metrical accent as it arrives on the downbeat (see ex. 1.3).
Thus far we have been working at the lowest level of poetic rhythm and meter,
that of the individual poetic foot. We now shift up a level to consider the second of
the three rhythmic effects mentioned above, the relative weighting of “accented”
syllables in a given line. German writers sometimes indicate the degree to which
metric accents are filled (erfüllt), sounded (betont), or not.14 Following common
practice in both German and English sources, we may distinguish two basic levels
of accent: the stronger accent with x́ (acute accent) and the weaker accent with
x̀ (grave accent). Thus, Müller’s “Der Lindenbaum” is in iambic trimeter, but the
accentual structure may be further differentiated as follows:
13. Hans Gál, Schubert and the Essence of Melody (London: Gollancz, 1974), 94; Youens, “Poetic Rhythm
and Musical Metre in Schubert’s Winterreise,” 33–34.
14. Kayser, Kleine deutsche Versschule, 103–11; and Carl Dahlhaus, “Deklamationsprobleme in Hugo
Wolfs Italienischem Liederbuch,” in Liedstudien; Wolfgang Osthoff zum 60. Geburtstag, ed. Martin
Just and Reinhard Wiesend (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1989), 441–52.
Am Brúnnen vòr dem Tóre, By the well in front of the gate,

Da stéht ein Líndenbáum: There stands a linden tree:
Ich trä́umt’ in sèinem Schátten I dreamed in its shade
So mánchen sǘssen Tráum. So many sweet dreams.
Thus, lines 1 and 3 have primary accents on the first and third poetic feet, whereas
lines 2 and 4 accent the three poetic feet about equally. One may also read lines 2
and 4 with slightly less stress on the final accented syllables, “-baum” and
“Traum.”
Degrees of poetic accent may be reflected in musical settings by metrical
placement and registral, dynamic, or rhythmic means. Example 1.1 provides
Schubert’s vocal setting for the first quatrain from “Der Lindenbaum” (Winterreise
No. 5). The first and third accented syllables arrive on downbeats of the 3/4 mea-
sures, and Schubert provides expressive emphasis to “Línden(baum)” and “sǘssen
(Traum)” with triplets descending from A and two-note melismas. We will con-
sider the numerical annotations above the vocal line presently.
Example 1.1: Schubert, “Der Lindenbaum,” Winterreise No. 5, mm. 9–16

[1 - 3 1 - -] [1 - 3 1 - -]
3
4

Am Brun - nen vor dem To - re da steht ein Lin - den - baum: Ich
[1 - 3 1 - -] [1 - 3 1 - -]

träumt’ in sei - nem Schat - ten so man - chen sü - ssen Traum.
The third aspect of poetic rhythm that is of concern for composers is the syn-
tactic flow within and between lines. Individual poetic lines may flow as syntactic
units, or they may be broken up by internal punctuation. Similarly, lines may con-
sist of independent syntactic phrases or even complete sentences, or the syntax
may flow with enjambments from one line to the next. This syntactic flow is itself
an expressive feature of the poetic persona’s voice.
The stanza above from “Der Lindenbaum” illustrates a complete alignment
of syntax, line, and couplet. The lines are syntactic phrases without internal
punctuation, and they combine to form sentences in each of the couplets. There
is then a natural transfer to the musical setting, with each couplet (= sentence)
set in a musical phrase (see ex. 1.1). All of this combines to form a simple and
direct mode of expression, a form of Volkstümlichkeit (folk quality, as it was
then imagined), and this in turn evokes the imagined idyll that the Wanderer
recalls and longs for. In comparison, syntax aligns with neither the poetic verse
nor the couplet in lines 5–8 of Eichendorff ’s “In der Fremde” (In a Foreign
Land):
5. Wie bald, wie bald kommt die stille Zeit, How soon, how soon comes the quiet
time,
Da ruhe ich auch, und über mir When I too will rest, and above me
Rauschet die schöne Waldeinsamkeit Will rustle the lovely forest solitude
Und keiner mehr kennt mich auch hier. And no one will remember me even here.
Line 5 combines with the beginning of line 6 to form a sentence (linked to the fol-
lowing sentence by a comma and conjunction). The comma in the middle of line 6
forms a strong internal caesura, and line 6 then flows over into line 7 in an enjamb-
ment. It is notable here that the enjambment flows not from one line to the next
within a couplet, but over the potentially stronger boundary between couplets.
(The couplet structure remains evident in the abab rhyme structure.) It is also per-
tinent to observe the nature of the enjambment: here it is an adverbial phrase, “und
über mir” (and above me), that is separated from its verb, “rauschet” (will rustle).
The poetic syntax sits awkwardly in the verses, and this awkwardness reflects the
poetic persona’s alienation, here, now, and beyond death.
The feel of an enjambment depends on the precise syntactic link from one line
to the next. In the following couplet from Mörike’s “Um Mitternacht” (also quoted
above), there is a particularly smooth flow, as the noun “Wage” (scale) leads on to
its descriptive phrase “der Zeit” (of time):
Ihr Áuge siéht die góldne Wáge nún Her eye now sees the golden balance
Der Zeít in gleíchen Schálen stílle rúhn; Of time resting still in equal scales;
There is also, however, a tension in this enjambment. The first line could be a complete
syntactic unit, and it is only as we read on that we find it to be incomplete. The tension
is in our temporal experience, as what seems to be a complete and closed moment is
forced to flow onward. This in turn may be heard in interpretive counterpoint with
that which it names, the “golden balance of time resting still in equal scales.” If the
weights of time are past and future, resting in balance at the present moment, the
enjambment seems to oppose that state of rest. On the other hand, the enjambment
extends the present moment smoothly through the full couplet of pentameter lines,
allowing for an extended poetic moment that ends with rest (Ruh).15
Relative flow within lines delineates poetic voices in Reinick’s “Liebestreu”
(Faithful Love), set by Brahms in his early song Op. 3 No. 1. The poem is a dialogue
between mother and daughter; the first couplet of each quatrain is spoken by the
mother, the second by the daughter. The mother’s agitation and determined insis-
tence are evident in the repetitions and commas in her lines:
“O versenk,’ o versenk’ dein Leid, mein Kind,

In die See, in die tiefe See!”
15. For discussions of Wolf ’s setting of “Um Mitternacht,” see Han-Herwig Geyer, Hugo Wolfs Mörike-
Vertonungen: Vermannigfaltigung in lyrischer Konzentration (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1991), 100–15;
Yonatan Malin, “Metric Analysis and the Metaphor of Energy: A Way into Selected Songs by Wolf
and Schoenberg,” Music Theory Spectrum 30, no. 1 (2008): 69–73; and Stein, Poem and Music in the
German Lied, 161–64.
“Oh drown, oh drown your sorrow, my child

In the sea, in the deep sea!”
The syntax itself is agitated, broken. Similar broken syntax in the mother’s speech
of the second stanza reflects her desire that the engagement be broken; she says
“brich sie ab, brich sie ab, mein Kind” (break it off, break it off, my child). The
daughter, strengthened by love, responds in more flowing syntax. Here is her cou-
plet in the first quatrain:
Ein Stein wohl bleibt auf des Meeres Grund,

Mein Leid kommt stets in die Höh.’
A stone may remain at the bottom of the sea,
My sorrow always rises to the surface.
Thus, the daughter’s self-assured speech has neither repetition nor internal cae-
suras. Brahms’s setting, which we will consider in chapter 6, replicates and inten-
sifies these differences of voice and poetic rhythm.
From Poetic Rhythm to Musical Rhythm
What were the defaults and range of possibilities available to composers as they set
the rhythms of verse in musical pitch and time? This question is not often addressed,
as such. There are many discussions of declamation, which address relations
between the accentual features of poetry and music, but these typically focus on
either declamatory naturalism, especially in Wolf, or faults of declamation, espe-
cially in Brahms.16 They also typically focus on the individual accented or unac-
cented syllable, not the setting of poetic lines or couplets as gestalts.17 Most recently,
16. See Heather Platt, “Jenner versus Wolf: The Critical Reception of Brahms’s Songs,” Journal of
Musicology 13, no. 3 (1995): 377–403. See also Dahlhaus, “Deklamationsprobleme in Hugo Wolfs
Italienischem Liederbuch”; and Edward F. Kravitt, The Lied: Mirror of Late Romanticism (New Haven,
CT: Yale University Press, 1996).
17. A forthcoming essay by Rufus Hallmark provides a notable exception. Hallmark traces rhythmic and
structural connections between poetry and music in Schubert’s songs starting with the rate of declama-
tion, then moving on to line and couplet settings, stanza settings, and the settings of entire poems.
Hallmark’s approach is thus similar to the one presented here. See Hallmark, “On Schubert Reading
Poetry: A Primer in the Rhythm of Poetry and Music,” in Of Poetry and Song: Approaches to the
Nineteenth-Century Lied, ed. Jürgen Thym (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, forthcoming,
2010), 3–36. See also the essays by Anne Clark Fehn and Jürgen Thym in Part 2 of the same volume:
Jürgen Thym, ed., Of Poetry and Song: Approaches to the Nineteenth-Century Lied (Rochester: University
of Rochester Press, forthcoming, 2010). Hallmark and Thym both trace their approaches back to the
work of Thrasybulos Georgiades; see Schubert: Musik und Lyrik (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and
Ruprecht, 1967) and the English translation of an excerpt from the book in “Lyric as Musical Structure:
Schubert’s Wandrers Nachtlied (“Über allen Gipfeln,” D. 768),” in Walter Frisch, ed., Schubert: Critical
and Analytical Studies (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1986), 84–103. Two articles on pentam-
eter settings, written jointly by Ann Clark Fehn and Rufus Hallmark, are discussed below.
Harald Krebs has developed a systematic methodology for identifying distortions

of what he calls the “basic rhythm of declamation” (BRD), focusing on Schumann’s
late songs.18 Here I focus on the range of (mostly) non-distortional patterns that
are common in the Lied.
Basic-Level Musical Rhythms
At the lowest level, one may attend to the rhythms used for individual poetic feet.
Thus, for instance, disyllabic feet may be set with equal or unequal durations in
the given meter. Trochees (- u) may be set in 4/4 with even quarters, dotted
rhythms, or a combination of the two (e.g., <qqqq>, <q. eq. e>, or <q. eq q>)
within the measure. Schumann begins “Auf einer Burg,” Op. 39 No. 7, with consis-
tently dotted rhythms, as in <q. eq. e/q. eq. e> for “Éingeschláfen áuf der Láuer.”
(Eichendorff ’s poem is in trochaic tetrameter throughout.) He then shifts to more
even rhythms, as in <q. eqq/qqqq> for “Éingewáchsen Bárt und Háare.” Iambs
generate analogous rhythms, beginning on an upbeat or pickup: <q/qqq>, <e/q.
eq.>, or <q/q. eq>. These same durational patterns may be heard in diminution
or augmentation, for faster or slower declamation, and they may be animated by
two-note melismas.
When the disyllabic foot is set in a duration that is divided metrically by
three, the setting will be uneven. In 6/8, for instance, we get <q eq e> for tro-
chees and <e/ q eq> for iambs. Hensel uses these rhythms in three out of the
six of her Op. 1 songs (Nos. 1, 3, and 6), and this contributes to their lyrical
qualities. Again, the rhythm may be further animated with two-note melismas.
In slower declamation there are further options. If the trochee is set in a mea-
sure of 6/8, we may get <q. q.> or <q.Yqe> for trochees and <q./q.> or <e/q.Yq>
for iambs. Wolf uses both of these latter two rhythms in 12/8 for the iambic feet
of “Um Mitternacht” (Mörike). The first line, “Gelássen stíeg die Nácht ans
Lánd,” for instance, is set with the rhythm <e/q.q.q.q./q.Yqeq.YeE>. If trochees
or iambs are set in a full measure of 4/4, the uneven rhythm may be even more
uneven: <h.. e> and <e/h..>. Schumann’s “Im Rhein,” Op. 48 No. 6, begins with
these double-dotted rhythms to convey the monumentality of the river and
cathedral, and double-dotted halves, notated with ties, recur in the next song,
“Ich grolle nicht.”
And what of trisyllabic feet? For the sake of simplicity, let us work with syl-
labic combinations that form dactyls (- u u); anapests and amphibrachs are set in
rotations of these rhythms. The basic “dactylic” rhythm is of course common, e.g.,
<q ee> in 2/4 or 4/4. The rapid declamation of Schumann’s “Die Rose, Die Lilie,”
Op. 48 No. 3, uses this in diminution, <e xxe xx> within each 2/4 measure.
Dactyls (- u u) may be set in a dotted-half duration of 3/4 or 6/4 with the even
18. Harald Krebs, “Fancy Footwork: Distortions of Poetic Rhythm in Robert Schumann’s Late Songs,”
keynote address at the Fifteenth Biennial Symposium of Research in Music Theory (Indiana
University, 2008). See also Krebs, “The Expressive Role of Rhythm and Meter in Schumann’s Late
Lieder,” Gamut 2, no. 1 (2009): 267–98.
<qqq> rhythms or uneven <q. eq> and <qq. e> rhythms. (These are the most
common options.) In a dotted-half duration of 6/8 or 12/8, the dactyl may be set
with <q eq.>, <q. qe>, or <q.Yeee>. Brahms’s “Von ewiger Liebe,” Op. 43 No. 1,
sets a poem that is consistently dactylic, and the song uses both 6/8 and 3/4 time
signatures. Brahms uses all six rhythms listed here, the three 6/8 and three 3/4
rhythms. There are three more common options when dactylic feet are set in full
measures of 4/4: the basic “dactylic” <h qq> rhythm and two dotted rhythms,
<q.eh> and <h q. e>.
A number of these trisyllabic rhythms may be heard as analog equivalents in
different meters. For instance, if we label the durations in relative terms as “1”
(long), “m” (medium) and “s” (short), we get two <1, m, s> patterns: <q. qe> in 6/8
and <h q. e> in 4/4. The 6/8 and 4/4 patterns also both include <m, s, 1> rhythms:
<q eq.> in 6/8 and <q. eh> in 4/4. These analog families are significant for text
setting because the rhythms of a given family (e.g., <1, m, s> or <m, s, 1>) may be
used to set syllable combinations with the same rhythmic profile. Thus, Schumann
sets the word “Waldeinsamkeit” with the 4/4 <1, m, s / 1> rhythm <h q. e/h> (see
ex. 5.3 (web) , mm. 18–19); it could likewise be set with a 6/8 <1, m, s / 1>
rhythm <q. qe/q.>. (Brahms’s rhythm for this word is more awkward, from a
purely declamatory point of view; he sets it as <e/qqq>; see ex. 6.1 (web) , mm.
22–23.)
The Line and Couplet Setting: Declamatory Schemas
Moving up a level, we may ask how poetic lines and couplets are set in various
musical meters. It has been assumed that the setting of trimeter and tetrameter
lines is governed by convention in the Lied, and thus is not worthy of particular
attention.19 While there is a simple convention for setting trimeter lines, we will
find that tetrameter lines settings are more varied, and, indeed, the placement of
poetic lines within the given musical meters is a significant compositional
resource.
Work by Fehn and Hallmark on pentameter settings provides a significant
precedent for the method that I shall present here.20 Fehn and Hallmark survey
all the pentameter line settings in Schubert’s songs, categorize them by rhythmic
type, and correlate the types with syntax and punctuation in the poetic lines.
Interestingly, Fehn and Hallmark attend to the relative duration of poetic feet in
musical settings but not to their placement in the given musical meters. The
technique given here does just that; it shows how lines and couplets are situated
in the notated meter. The notated meter is not identical with all that we hear,
19. Ann Clark Fehn and Rufus Hallmark, “Text and Music in Schubert’s Pentameter Lieder: A
Consideration of Declamation,” Studies in the History of Music: Music and Language 1 (1983): 205.
20. Fehn and Hallmark, “Text and Music in Schubert’s Pentameter Lieder.” See also their earlier article,
“Text Declamation in Schubert’s Settings of Pentameter Poetry,” Zeitschrift für Literaturwissenschaft
und Linguistik 9, no. 34 (1979): 80–111. The two articles are combined in a chapter from Of Poetry
and Song: Approaches to the Nineteenth-Century Lied, ed. Jürgen Thym (Rochester, NY: University
of Rochester Press, forthcoming, 2010), 155–219.
metrically (see chap. 2), but in most cases there is at least a significant overlap
between the two.21
The basic procedure is fairly simple: we will use beat numbers to identify the
placement of accented syllables in a given musical meter. Annotations in example 1.2
show the placement of accented syllables in the beginning of Hensel’s 6/8 setting of
“Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass,” Op. 1 No. 3. Brackets in the annotation
delineate the poetic lines. The annotated vocal line thus shows that the poem alter-
nates lines of iambic tetrameter and iambic trimeter, and it shows that these lines
are set conventionally in two-bar spans. (The quatrain itself was given above with a
poetic scansion.) There is a rest after the trimeter lines to fill out the two-bar spans;
the dash in the annotation indicates a beat that does not carry an accented syllable.
Recall that trimeter lines may be conceived as tetrameter lines with a silent last
“beat”; this is precisely the way they are commonly set. The annotation also works
as a shorthand label in prose discussion; we may say that the couplets of Heine’s
poem are set with accented syllables in the pattern [1, 2 / 1, 2][1, 2 / 1 -].
Example 1.2: Hensel, “Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass,” Op. 1 No. 3, mm.
3–10
[1 2 1 2] [1 2 1 -]
6
8
Wa - rum sind denn die Ro - sen so blass? O sprich mein Lieb wa - rum? Wa -
[1 2 1 2] [1 2 1 -]

rum sind denn im grü - nen Gras die blau - en Veil -chen so stumm?
The bracketed labels identify what I call declamatory schemas. They are
schemas in that they provide a basic outline of declamatory rhythm and indicate
patterns that recur both within the song and throughout the genre. Declamatory
schemas thus provide the basis for broad comparison and detailed study. There
are songs that stick to a single schema throughout, songs that use paired schemas
for each couplet, songs that shift between two or more schemas, and songs or
passages in which the declamation is too variable to be analyzed in terms of
schemas.
21. There is also a precedent for my approach in remarks by Schoenberg on Brahms’s songs; see Arnold
Schoenberg, “Brahms the Progressive,” in Style and Idea, ed. Leonard Stein, trans. Leo Black (New
York: St. Martin’s Press, 1975), 398–441. Schoenberg’s remarks, however, are confusing, and they
show the need for a more precise method. Deborah Rohr comments on Schoenberg’s essay and
presents a more lucid discussion of the relation between poetic line length and musical phrase
length in Brahms’s songs. She does not, however, trace the precise placement of poetic lines in
musical meters as I do here. See Deborah Adams Rohr, “Brahms’s Metrical Dramas: Rhythm, Text
Expression, and Form in the Solo Lieder” (PhD diss., University of Rochester, Rochester, NY, 1997),
26–30, 32–42.
The next three sections will focus on trimeter, tetrameter, and pentameter settings
in turn. I survey songs from Schubert’s Winterreise, Schumann’s Dichterliebe, and
Hensel’s songs Opp. 1 and 7. With this sample we get a range of styles from the first
half of the nineteenth century, and settings of poems by the major poets of the genre:
Müller, Heine, Goethe, Eichendorff, Rückert, and Lenau. In the section on pentameter
settings, I will show how the method presented here relates to that of Fehn and
Hallmark, and compare pentameter settings by Schubert and Wolf. Many of the songs
introduced here will be considered in greater detail in subsequent chapters.
Trimeter Settings
The vocal excerpt from “Gute Nacht” given in example 1.3 includes annotations for
the trimeter schema, a [1, 2 / 1 -] schema in 2/4. The penultimate syllables of
“ge-zó-gen” and “ge-wó-gen” are stretched out with dotted rhythms, and the final
unaccented syllable arrives on the second beat. This is a common option for trimeter
lines: unaccented line endings may be placed on the beat, at the metric level used for
other accented syllables.22 This feature is not indicated as such in the declamatory
schema; the second beat gets a dash since it does not carry an accented syllable.
Example 1.3: Schubert, “Gute Nacht,” Winterreise No. 1, mm. 8–15

[1 2 1 -] [1 2 1 -]
2
4
Fremd bin ich ein - ge - zo - gen, fremd zieh’ ich wie - der aus. Der
[1 2 1 -] [1 2 1 -]

Mai war mir ge - wo - gen mit man - chem Blu - men - strauss.
The trimeter schema in Schubert’s 3/4 setting of “Der Lindenbaum” (Winterreise

No. 5) is shown in example 1.1. Accented syllables are placed on beats 1 and 3 of
the notated meter to produce the schema [1 - 3 / 1 - -]. This would seem to be a
natural and common schema, but in fact it is rare; most trimeter lines are set in
duple or quadruple meters. (See the summary of trimeter settings below.) Example
1.4 shows the declamatory schema in “Das Wirtshaus,” also from Winterreise
(No. 21). Here each line is set in a single 4/4 measure, the schema [1, 2, 3 -]. The
dotted bar lines and upper-level annotation show that this is a “compound meter”
22. Jon Finson, following Otto Paul and Ingeborg Glier, describes iambic trimeter poems that are set this
way as a form of the German Langzeilenvers. See Jon Finson, Robert Schumann: The Book of Songs,
26; and Otto Paul and Ingeborg Glier, Deutsche Metrik, 5th ed. (Munich: Max Hueber, 1970). §107.
There are settings of individual poems, however, that vary in their treatment of unaccented line
endings, sometimes placing them at the level of other accented syllables and sometimes at a
subsidiary level. Schubert’s “Erstarrung,” presented below, is an example.
version of the [1, 2 / 1 -] schema. I use the term “compound meter” here in its his-
torical sense, in which 4/4 may be considered a “compound” of two 2/4 measures.23
Example 1.5 shows the broad declamatory schema in the beginning of Schumann’s
“Im Rhein” from Dichterliebe (No. 6). Here each line is set in four measures, each
couplet in eight. The upper-level annotation shows that this is a hypermetric ver-
sion of the common [1, 2 / 1 -] schema. (Hypermeter refers to metric organization
beyond the level of the notated measure; see chap. 2.) The broad declamation at the
beginning of “Im Rhein” combines with other features to give a sense of monu-
mentality, and indeed, the declamation speeds up later in the song as the poet
moves into the interior spaces of the cathedral and his own emotions. Example 1.6
shows an unusual trimeter schema in “Der Leiermann” from Winterreise (No. 24).
The trimeter lines are set in 3/4 with one accented syllable per beat and no break
between the lines of each couplet. The rigid trochaic meter translates into strict
eighth-note motion, as the Wanderer’s alter ego turns his hurdy-gurdy.
Example 1.4: Schubert, “Das Wirtshaus,” Winterreise No. 21, mm. 6–7
2/4: [1 2 1 -] [1 2 1 -]
4/4: [1 2 3 -] [1 2 3 -]
4
4
Auf ei - nem To - dten - a - cker hat mich mein Weg ge - bracht;
Example 1.5: Schumann, “Im Rhein,” Dichterliebe No. 6, mm. 1–8

Hypermetric: [1 2 1 -] [1 2 1 -]
[1 1 1 -] [1 1 1 -]

Im Rhein, im hei - li - gen Stro - me, da spie - gelt sich in den Well’n mit
Example 1.6: Schubert, “Der Leiermann,” Winterreise No. 24, mm. 9–16
[1 2 3] [1 2 3]
3
4
Drü- ben hin - term Dor - fe steht ein Lei - er - mann,
[1 2 3] [1 2 3]

und mit star - ren Fin - gern dreht er, was er kann.
23. See William E. Caplin, “Theories of Musical Rhythm in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries,” in
The Cambridge History of Western Music Theory, ed. Thomas Christensen (Cambridge: Cambridge
Table 1.1: Trimeter Schemas in Winterreise, Dichterliebe, and Hensel’s Opp. 1 and 7
Schema Schubert Winterreise Schumann Dichterliebe Hensel Opp. 1 and 7
[1, 2 / 1 -] 1, 3, 7, 11, 12 1, 2, 5, 8, 10, 11, Op. 1 No. 1

12, 13*, 15*
[1 - 3 / 1 - -] 5
[1 - 3 - / 1 - - -] 4 16
[1, 2, 3 -] = 18, 21
compound [1, 2 / 1- ]
[1 / 1 / 1 / 1] = 6*, 9, 15*
hypermetric [1, 2 / 1- ]
[1, 2, 3] 24
* Songs with changing schemas
Table 1.1 summarizes the trimeter schemas in Winterreise, Dichterliebe, and

Hensel’s songs Opp. 1 and 7. One can see the overriding prevalence of the basic [1,
2 / 1 -] schema and the occasional occurrence of analogous schemas. The bottom
row shows the unique [1, 2, 3] schema of “Der Leiermann.” The asterisks indicate
songs with changing declamatory schemas. Thus, for instance, “Aus alten Märchen”
from Dichterliebe (No. 15) begins the fairy tale with a standard [1, 2 / 1 -] schema
in 6/8 and then shifts to the broader hypermetric version of this schema as the
poet turns to reflect on his own situation and desire, singing “Ach könnt’ ich dor-
thin kommen / Und dort mein Herz erfreu’n” (Ah, could I but go there, and there
cheer my heart). The change of schema indexes a new mode of thought and
expression. Table 1.1 does not include songs that alternate tetrameter and trim-
eter lines; we shall consider these presently. (“Im wunderschönen Monat Mai,”
Dichterliebe No. 1, is included here. The title line a tetrameter line, the others are
all trimetric.)
There is one issue in trimeter settings that needs further explication: the
setting of unaccented line endings. These may land on the beat, at the level of the
accented syllables, as we observed above (see the discussion of “Gute Nacht”), or
they may be set at the level of the other unaccented syllables. Schubert uses both
options in a repeated setting of the first quatrain of “Erstarrung” (Winterreise
No. 4); see example 1.7. The first time through the unaccented line endings are
set on the second quarters, that is, at the metric level of the other unaccented
syllables. This produces a characteristic syncopation, shown with brackets, and
here Schubert takes this as a rhythmic motive for the accented endings on “Spur”
and “Flur.” The second time through, Schubert stretches out “ver-ge-bens” and
“Ar-me” so that the unaccented syllables land on beat 3. This smoothing out of
declamatory rhythm goes together with an easing of tension and temporary shift
to the relative major.
University Press, 2002), 657–94; and Claudia Maurer Zenck, Vom Takt: Untersuchungen zur Theorie
und kompositorischen Praxis im ausgehenden 18. Und beginnenden 19. Jahrhundert (Vienna: Böhlau,
2001).
Example 1.7: Schubert, “Erstarrung,” Winterreise No. 4, mm. 8–23

Ich such’ im Schnee ver - ge - bens nach ih - rer Trit - te Spur, - wo

sie an mei - nem Ar - me durch - strich die grü - ne Flur, ich
Repeat of quatrain -

such’ im Schnee ver - ge - bens nach ih - rer Trit - te Spur, wo

sie an mei - nem Ar - me durch strich die grü - ne Flur.
Tetrameter Settings
At a basic level, trimeter settings do follow a common convention; most use a ver-
sion of the basic [1, 2 / 1 -] schema. Tetrameter settings, on the other hand, are
more varied. First of all, the four poetic feet may be situated in measure pairs as
two-plus-two or three-plus-one. Second, schemas are sometimes paired to set the
lines of each couplet, and the couplet settings thus form larger rhythmic gestalts.
Third, the initial accented syllable may be set on a downbeat or an upbeat. Schemas
that begin with an upbeat are much more common in tetrameter settings than in
trimeter settings. Fourth, tetrameter lines are sometimes set in three-bar schemas.
If we combine these possibilities with different musical meters, we get a significant
range of choices. As before, I will begin with a few examples. I will then present a
taxonomy of common tetrameter schemas and summarize their use in the cycles
and collections by Schubert, Hensel, and Schumann.
Example 1.8: Schubert, “Wasserflut,” Winterreise No. 6, mm. 5–8

[1 2 - 1 2 -] [1 2 3 1 - -]

3

4

Man - che Trän’ aus mei - nen Au - gen ist ge - fal - len in den Schnee;
Schubert’s “Wasserflut” (Winterreise No. 6) illustrates a combination of two

schemas for the paired lines of each couplet (see ex. 1.8). The first schema is a
two-plus-two pattern, [1, 2 - / 1, 2 -], and the second schema is a three-plus-one
pattern, [1, 2, 3 / 1 - -]. The couplet setting thus becomes a larger rhythmic
gestalt, with motion through to the downbeat of the fourth measure. Interestingly,
while the first and third accented syllables of “Manche Trän’ aus meinen Augen”
are set on metric downbeats, the second and fourth receive registral and agogic
(longer duration) accents. It is these latter accents that correspond most closely
with those of a poetic reading: “Mànche Trä́n’ aus mèinen Áugen.”
Schubert seems to have liked this schema pairing; it also appears in “Irrlicht” and
“Letzte Hoffnung,” the ninth and sixteenth songs in Winterreise. We may then contrast
these settings with “Die Nebensonnen,” (Winterreise No. 23), shown in example 1.9. In
“Die Nebensonnen” we get the [1, 2 - / 1, 2 -] schema for both lines of the couplet ini-
tially (ex. 1.9a); Schubert then “modulates” to the [1, 2, 3 / 1 - -] schema, again for both
lines of the couplet (ex. 1.9b). The change takes place with a shift to A minor and an
awakening of desire and pain: “Ach, meine Sonnen seid ihr nicht, / schaut andern
doch in’s Angesicht!” (Ah, you are not my suns, you look into others’ faces!).
Example 1.9: Schubert, “Die Nebensonnen,” Winterreise No. 23; mm. 5–8 (a) and
16–19 (b)
[1 2 - 1 2 -] [1 2 -

1 2 -]
3
(a) 4
Drei Son - nen sah ich am Him - mel steh’n, hab’ lang und fest sie an - ge sehn.
[1 2 3 1 - -] [1 2 3 1 - -]
3
4
(b)
Ach, mei - ne Son - nen seid ihr nicht, schaut an - dern doch in’s An - ge - sicht!
Upbeat beginnings enable the placement of the final accented syllables of

tetrameter lines on downbeats. This in fact may be why upbeat beginnings are
relatively common in tetrameter settings. Fanny Hensel’s “Morgenständchen,”
Op. 1 No. 5, is an extreme case; it is set in 4/4 with the schema [2, 3, 4 / 1] (see ex.
1.10). Forward-directed declamation combines with pulsating chords (not shown
here) to create a sense of excitement, appropriate for the morning joy of
Eichendorff ’s poem. The two couplets are separated by a measure of rest, and an
alternative schema is interspersed at the first repetition of “Waldeslaut und
Vogelschall,” as shown in the example.
Examples 1.11 and 1.12 show two songs, both from Winterreise, with tetram-
eter lines set in three-bar spans. The three-bar schema [1 - / 1, 2 / 1 -] in “Die Post”
can be understood as a despondent version of a normative two-bar schema [1, 2 /
1, 2]. The Wanderer laments in E% minor, with the hesitant three-bar schema, that
he has not received a letter from his love (ex. 1.11a). He then turns to E% major and
a more fluid two-bar schema as he repeats the lines (ex. 1.11b). In contrast with
this, the three-bar schema [1 - / 1, 2 / 1 -] emerges in “Täuschung” as a contraction
of a four-bar setting (exs. 1.12a and b). The change of declamatory schema coin-
cides with a shift to A minor and a moment of intensified feeling and pain.
Example 1.10: Hensel, “Morgenständchen,” Op. 1 No. 5, mm. 1–10

Allegro molto quasi presto
4
[2 3 4 1] [2 3 4 1]
4

In den Wip - feln fri - sche Lüf - te, fern me - lod’ - scher Que - llen Fall

durch die Ein - sam - keit der Klüf - te, Wal - des - laut und Vo - gel -

[4 1 - 3 - 1]

schall Wal - des - laut und Vo - gel - schall durch die Ein - sam - keit der

Klüf - te, Wal - des - laut und Vo - gel - schall.
Example 1.11: Schubert, “Die Post,” Winterreise No. 13; mm. 28–35 (a) and 38–46 (b)
[1 - 1 2 1 -] [1 -
6
(a)
8
Die Post bringt kei - nen Brief für dich. Was drängst du
1 2 1 -]

denn so wun - der - lich, mein Herz, mein Herz?

[1 2 1 2]
6
8
(b)

die Post bringt kei - nen Brief für dich, mein Herz, mein Herz, was
[1 2 1
2]

drängst du denn so wun - der - lich, mein Herz, mein Herz?
Brahms’s “An den Mond,” Op. 71 No. 2, uses three-bar schemas throughout.
Brahms in fact uses two different three-bar schemas in “An den Mond”: example
1.13a shows a couplet with the schema [1 - / 1, 2 / 1 -], as in Schubert’s “Die Post”
and “Täuschung,” and example 1.13b shows a syncopated schema [1, 2 / - 2 / 1 -]
(which may also be heard as a reverse hemiola; see chap. 2). Shifts between these
schemas mark out sections of the song, and the consistent use of three-bar spans
Example 1.12: Schubert, “Täuschung,” Winterreise No. 19; mm. 6–13 (a) and 22–27 (b)
6
[1 - 1 2 1 - - -]
8
(a)
Ein Licht tanzt freund - lich vor mir her, ich
[1 - 1 2 1 - - -]

folg’ ihm nach die Kreuz und Quer;
[1 - 1 2 1 -] [1 - 1 2 1 -]
6
(b) 8
Ach! wer wie ich so e - lend ist, gibt gern sich hin der bun - ten List,
Example 1.13: Brahms, “An den Mond,” Op. 71 No. 2; mm. 4–9 (a) and 25–30 (b)
[1 - 1 2 1 -] [1 -

2

4
(a)
Sil - ber - mond, mit blei - chen Strah len pflegst du

1 2 1 -]

Wald und Feld zu ma - len,
[1 2 - 2 1 -] [1 2 - 2 1 -]
2
(b) 4
Sag ihr, die ich trag im Her - zen, wie mich tö - tet Lie - bes - weh.
is indicative of Brahms’s interest in “mixed metric complexes,” meters that com-

bine duple and triple relations at multiple levels.24
Table 1.2 provides a taxonomy of common tetrameter schemas, categorized by
musical meter and schema type. The schema types include the two-plus-two, three-
plus-one, upbeat-oriented, and three-bar schemas illustrated in the previous exam-
ples. The [2, 3, 4 / 1] schema of Hensel’s “Morgenständchen” is unusual; table 1.2 gives
the more common upbeat-oriented schemas. There is also a “trimeter” schema: the
24. The term “mixed metric complex” is from Richard Cohn, “The Dramatization of Hypermetric
Conflicts in the Scherzo of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony,” 19th-Century Music 15, no. 3 (1992): 194.
Deborah Rohr presents a valuable analysis of poetic structure, phrase rhythm, and 3:2 ratios at mul-
tiple levels in Brahms’s “An den Mond”; see Rohr, “Brahms’s Metrical Dramas,” 154–65.
Table 1.2: Taxonomy of Common Tetrameter Schemas

Schema Type Duple Meters Triple Meters Quadruple Meters
Two plus two [1, 2 / 1, 2] [1, 2 - / 1, 2 -] [1 - 3 - / 1 - 3 -]

[1 - 3 / 1, 2 -]
Three plus one [1, 2 a / 1 -] [1, 2, 3 / 1 - -] [1 - 3, 4 / 1 - - -]
Upbeat oriented [2 / 1, 2 / 1] [3 / 1 - 3 / 1 -] [3 - / 1 - 3 - / 1 -]
[3 / 1, 2 - / 1 -]
“Trimeter” [a / 1, 2 / 1 -] [4 / 1 - 3 - / 1 - -]
Three-bar [1 - / 1, 2 / 1 -]
[1, 2 / - 2 / 1 -]
initial poetic foot is set as a rapid upbeat, and the rest of the line is set as in the
common [1, 2 / 1 -] schema for trimeter lines. An example of this schema can be
found in Hensel’s “Wanderlied,” Op. 1 No. 2 (see ex. 3.3 (web) . The “a” labels in the
schemas reference accented syllables on the second half of a beat, here the “and of
two.” As the table shows, some of the most interesting play occurs with the setting of
tetrameter schemas in triple meters. Thus, for instance, there are two common options
Table 1.3: Tetrameter Schemas in Winterreise

Song Time Signature Declamatory Schemas
2. Die Wetterfahne 6/8 [1, 2 / 1, 2]

[1, 2 a / 1][2 / 1, 2 / 1]
6. Wasserflut 3/4 [1, 2 - / 1, 2 - ][1, 2, 3 / 1 - -]
8. Rückblick 3/4 [1, 2, 3 / 1][2, 3 / 1, 2 -]*
[1, 2, 3 / 1 - -]
9. Irrlicht 3/8 [1, 2 - / 1, 2 - ][1, 2, 3 / 1 - -]
[1, 2, 3 / 1 - -]
10. Rast 2/4 [1, 2 / 1, 2][1, 2 / 1 -]
13. Die Post 6/8 [1, 2, 1, 2]
[1 - / 1, 2 / 1 -]
14. Der greise Kopf 3/4 [1, 2 - / 1, 2 -][1 - 3 / 1 - -]
[1 - 3 / 1, 2 - ][1 - 3 / 1 - -]
[1, 2, 3 / 1 - -]
15. Die Krähe 2/4 [1, 2 / 1, 2 ][1, 2 / 1 - ]
16. Letzte Hoffnung 3/4 [1, 2 - / 1, 2 - ][1, 2, 3 / 1 - -]
17. Im Dorfe 12/8 A section: [3 - / 1 - 3 - / 1 -]
B section: [1 - (3) - / 1, 2, 3 -]*
[1 - 3 - / (1 - 3 - ) / 1 - 3 -]
19. Täuschung 6/8 [1 - / 1, 2 / 1 - / - -]
[1 - / 1, 2 / 1 -]
[1, 2 / 1 - / 1 - ]*
20. Der Wegweiser 2/4 [a / 1, 2 / 1 - ]
22. Mut 2/4 [1, 2 / - 2 / 1 -][1, 2 / 1 -]
[1, 2 / 1, 2][1, 2 / 1 -]
23. Die Nebensonnen 3/4 [1, 2 - / 1, 2 -]
[1, 2, 3 / 1 - -]
* These are the unusual schemas, not included in table 1.2

Table 1.4: Tetrameter Schemas in Hensel’s Opp. 1 and 7

Song Time Signature Declamatory Schemas
Wanderlied, Op. 1 No. 2 4/8 [4 / 1 - 3 / 1 - -]

Warum sind denn die Rosen 6/8 [1, 2 / 1, 2][1, 2 / 1 -]
so blass, Op. 1 No. 3
Maienlied, Op. 1 No. 4 3/4 [3 / 1 - 3 / 1 -]
Morgenständchen, Op. 1 No. 5 4/4 [2, 3, 4 / 1]*
[4 / 1 - 3 - / 1]
Gondellied, Op. 1 No. 6 6/8 [1, 2 / 1, 2][1, 2 / 1 -]
Nachtwanderer, Op. 7 No. 1 9/8 [1, 2, 3 / 1 - -] and other variable
settings
Erwin, Op. 7 No. 2 4/4 [3 - / 1 - 3 - / 1 -]
Frühling, Op. 7 No. 3 2/4 [a / 1 - a / 1 -]*
[2 / 1, 2 / 1]
Bitte, Op. 7 No. 5 6/8 [2 / 1, 2 / 1]
*These are the unusual schemas, not included in table 1.2
for two-plus-two schemas in triple meters, the repetitive [1, 2 - / 1, 2 -] and the inter-
nally differentiated [1 - 3 / 1, 2 -]. The first upbeat-oriented schema listed in the triple
meter column, [3 / 1 - 3 / 1], is relatively common; the second one, [3 / 1, 2 - / 1], tends
to have a “cadential” function at the end of strophes. We shall see examples of this
“cadential” schema in Hensel’s “Maienlied,” Op. 1 No. 4, and Schumann’s “Wenn ich
in deine Augen seh’” from Dichterliebe (No. 4) (see chaps. 3 and 5).
Tables 1.3 and 1.4 summarize the tetrameter schemas in Winterreise and
Hensel’s Opp. 1 and 7 songs. These tables account for the main schemas in each
song, not for every tetrameter line setting. Schemas in directly adjacent sets of
brackets show couplet settings, as in Schubert’s “Wasserflut” (Winterreise No. 6).
The table includes settings of poems that alternate tetrameter and trimeter lines;
see Winterreise Nos. 10, 14, 15, and 22, and Hensel’s Op. 1 Nos. 3 and 6. Several
unusual schemas, not included in the taxonomy of Table 1.2, are marked with
asterisks. Parentheses around beat numbers in the schemas for Schubert’s “Im
Dorfe” indicate text repetition within a line; this is an additional resource for anal-
ysis. (Two of the lines in question, with Schubert’s text repetition in italics, are, “Je
nun, je nun, sie haben ihr Teil genossen / und hoffen, und hoffen, was sie noch übrig
liessen,” and these are set with the unusual schema [1 - (3) - / 1, 2, 3 -].) There are
only three songs in Dichterliebe with tetrameter lines (not counting “Im wunder-
schönen Monat Mai”): Nos. 3, 4, and 14. Of these, Nos. 3 and 14 are set convention-
ally. The fourth song, “Wenn ich in deine Augen seh,’” uses a fluid succession of
schemas, which we will explore in chapter 5.
Pentameter Settings
As I noted above, Fehn and Hallmark survey every pentameter line set by Schubert.
They find that there are two common procedures for pentameter settings. In the
first procedure, labeled X, two poetic feet are compressed relative to the others so
that the lines fit in four metric units. In the second, labeled Y, the line is set with
even declamation and a rest at the end, or even declamation and an expansion of
one poetic foot (usually the last foot). The line then takes up six metric units.
Fehn and Hallmark’s analysis avoids reference to particular musical meters.
This enables very broad comparisons, but it leaves out an important element in the
settings. We may want to know, for instance, whether a six-unit span is organized
as 2 x 3 or 3 x 2, say two bars of 3/4 or three bars of 2/4. Likewise, we may attend to
where the notated downbeats fall in relation to the five poetic feet. Both of these
things are immediately evident in the declamatory schema notation.
Example 1.14 provides one of Fehn and Hallmark’s examples, an excerpt from
Schubert’s “An den Schlaf,” D. 447, with added annotations for the declamatory
schema.25 Fehn and Hallmark reference this as an X type setting, in the form //. ./;
slashes represent relatively longer durations and dots represent relatively shorter
durations. (This particular pattern, with compression of the third and fourth poetic
feet, is the most common of the X type settings; it is labeled X1.) Here we see that
the line is set in a quadruple meter, with a [1 - 3 - / 1, 2, 3 -] schema.
Example 1.14: Schubert, “An den Schlaf,” D. 447, mm. 1–2

[1 - 3 - 1 2 3 -]

Komm, und sen - ke die um - flor - ten Schwin - gen,
The next three examples show three settings that correspond with Fehn and
Hallmark’s Y type, that is, they set the five poetic feet evenly, with a rest before or
after the line. (The first two examples are drawn from Fehn and Hallmark’s work;
I add the declamatory schema analysis.26) In Schubert’s “Ungeduld,” from Die
schöne Müllerin (ex. 1.15), the lines are set in 3/4 with the declamatory schema
[1, 2, 3 / 1, 2 -]. The setting therefore places the first and fourth accented syllables
on notated downbeats. Interestingly, the contour of the vocal line hints at a hemiola
[1, 2, 3, / 1, 2 -]. All of this contributes to the song’s affect of impatience. “Pause,”
from Die schöne Müllerin, also sets pentameter lines in even declamation (see ex.
1.16), but here there are two differences: the lines are set in three-bar spans of what
is essentially a duple meter, and each three-bar phrase begins with a rest in the
voice. (The meter is notated as 4/4, but it can be heard in cut time.) The vocal
silence references the Miller lad’s figurative silence; he has hung his lute on the wall
and can no longer sing, for his heart is too full.
The third example is from Wolf ’s song, “Dass doch gemalt all’ deine Reize
wären” from the Italian Songbook (see ex. 1.17). This setting includes elements
from both the prior Schubert examples. It is in a triple meter, like “Ungeduld,” and
each line begins on the second beat, as in “Pause.” Once again, the declamatory
25. Fehn and Hallmark, “Text and Music in Schubert’s Pentameter Lieder,” 207.
26. Fehn and Hallmark, “Text and Music in Schubert’s Pentameter Lieder,” 224.
Example 1.15: Schubert, “Ungeduld,” Die schöne Müllerin No. 7, mm. 8–12
3
Etwas Geschwind [1 2 3
4

Ich schnitt’ es gern in al - le
Ich möcht’ mir zie - hen ei - nen

1 2 -] [1 2 3

Rin - den ein, ich grüb’ es gern in je - den
jun - gen Staar, bis dass er spräch’ die Wor - te

1 2 -]

Kie - sel-stein, ich
rein und klar, bis
Example 1.16: Schubert, “Pause,” Die schöne Müllerin No. 12, mm. 9–14
Ziemlich geschwind
[- 2 1 2 1 2]

Mei - ne Lau - te hab’ ich ge - hängt an die Wand,
[- 2 1 2 1 2]

hab’ sie um - schlung - en mit ein - em grü - nen Band;
schema shows this succinctly. There is a further syncopation in the vocal line,
which is common in Wolf. Lines from the declamatory schema to the vocal pitches
show that the syncopations can be heard as delays in relation to a metrically aligned
setting—as in mm. 3–4. As it turns out, the poems set in Wolf ’s Italian Songbook
are all in iambic pentameter; we will return to a study of their settings and further
comparisons with Schubert in chapter 7.
Example 1.17: Wolf, “Dass doch gemalt all’ deine Reize wären,” Italian Songbook
No. 9, mm. 1–4
Mässig ( = 40)
[- 2 3 1 2 3]
9
8
Dass doch ge - malt all’ dei - ne Rei - ze wä - ren,
[- 2 3 1 2 3]

und dann der Hei - den - fürst das Bild - niss fän - de.
Beyond Declamatory Schemas
Relations between poetic and musical rhythm involve much more than the basic
rhythms and declamatory schemas, as is evident from the preceding remarks on
“Ungeduld” and other songs. Pitch contour, prolongational patterns, and structural
lines also contribute to the rhythmic shaping of a line. The setting of a given poetic
line may be essentially static, moving within a small range away from and back to
a given pitch, it may articulate simple stepwise motion with added embellishment,
or it may move over a broader range. A melody may be compound, with implicit
counterpoint. These linear features occur in time (to state the obvious) and thus
involve durational patterning.27 Of particular interest for relations between poetic
and musical rhythm, however, is the use of repetition and parallelisms at levels
from the brief motive to the phrase, period, and strophe. Such repetitions and par-
allelisms may correlate with aspects of poetic structure, or they may form
independent rhythms, layered with those of the poem. We should recall as well
that the poetic rhythm itself may include conflicting layers. Musical phrase
rhythms then may align with the poetic structure (e.g., line, couplet, or qua-
train), poetic syntax, or a combination of the two.
We shall explore such interactions in the analyses of chapters 3–7. For the pre-
sent, let us consider a single example, one in which the poetic and musical rhythms
are, for the most part, maximally aligned. Here are the first two quatrains of Müller’s
“Der Lindenbaum,” set by Schubert in Winterreise (the first quatrain was also given
above; here we add the second):
1. Am Brunnen vor dem Tore, By the well in front of the gate,

Da steht ein Lindenbaum: There stands a linden tree:
Ich träumt’ in seinem Schatten I dreamed in its shade
So manchen süssen Traum. So many sweet dreams.
5. Ich schnitt in seine Rinde I carved in its bark
So manches liebe Wort; Many a lovely word;
Es zog in Freud’ und Leide In happiness and sorrow
Zu ihm mich immer fort. It drew me always to it.
On the one hand, the poetic meter and form are regular, with lines in iambic trim-
eter, alternating unaccented and accented endings, and abab rhyme schemes. On
the other hand, there is a kind of syncopation, a link from the first quatrain to the
second. We get a parallelism in lines 3–4 and 5–6:
27. Theorists engaged in linear or Schenkerian analysis have increasingly paid attention to aspects of
rhythm and meter, and indeed this has been a strong stimulus for the development of metric theory
Foundational studies in this regard include Robert P. Morgan, “The Theory and Analysis of Tonal
Rhythm,” Musical Quarterly 64, no. 4 (1978): 435–73; William Rothstein, Phrase Rhythm in Tonal
Music (New York: Schirmer Books, 1989); and three papers by Carl Schachter reprinted in Unfoldings
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1999). For further references, see David Carson Berry, A
Topical Guide to Schenkerian Literature: An Annotated Bibliography with Indices (Hillsdale, NY:
Pendragon Press, 2004).
Ich träumt’ in seinem Schatten, / So manchen süssen Traum.

Ich schnitt in seine Rinde / So manches liebe Wort.
The first couplet, furthermore, is in its own discursive space; it describes the linden
tree in the present tense, now standing. This stimulates the Wanderer’s memory,
and lines 3–8 recall an idyllic time in the past.
Schubert sets the first quatrain with a repeating phrase, the second with a
parallel period (see ex. 1.18; the phrases are marked as aabb1). Thus, the musical
phrase structures align with the quatrains, not with the parallelism of lines 3–4
and 5–6, and neither is the first couplet given its own musical setting to match the
independent discursive space. This is all natural enough, and we easily follow the
flow of thought through the poetic and musical phrase structures. It is, nonethe-
less, a layering of independent rhythms, a “polyrhythm” of poetic and musical
voices, if you will. The notion of polyrhythm in the Lied was introduced early on,
in 1817, by the composer, critic, and publisher Hans Georg Nägeli. We turn now to
Nägeli’s ideas and the early aesthetics of the Lied.
3
phrase a (lines 1–2)

4

Am Brun - nen vor dem To - re da steht ein Lin - den - baum: Ich

phrase a (lines 3–4)

träumt’ in sei - nem Schat - ten so man - chen sü - ssen Traum. Ich

phrase b (lines 5–6)

schnitt in sei - ne Rin - de so man - ches lie - be Wort; es
phrase b1 (lines 7–8)

zog in Freud’ und Lei - de zu ihm mich im - mer fort.
Nägeli’s “Polyrhythm” and the Romantic Lied
“Die Liederkunst” (1817)
In an article titled “Die Liederkunst” (The Art of the Lied), published in the
Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung in 1817, Nägeli forecast a “new epoch in the art of
song” and a “higher style of Lied.”28 He indicated, furthermore, that the new epoch
28. Hans Georg Nägeli, “Die Liederkunst,” Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung 45 (1817): 765–66.
would feature “an as of yet unrecognized polyrhythm, so that the rhythm of speech,
singing and playing will be subsumed into a higher artistic whole.”29 Nägeli’s “poly-
rhythm” refers broadly to the interaction of rhythmic layers, not only to the kind
of two-against-three rhythms that we associate today with polyrhythm. Speech,
singing, and playing each have their own rhythms, and they may each come to the
fore in turn.
Nägeli’s article is remarkable for its early recognition of the potential for
rhythmic independence in the Lied, its explicit embrace of this independence, and
for the idea that it could contribute to a “higher artistic whole.”30 In all respects, this
is a break from the Lied aesthetics of the eighteenth century, which prescribed that
the Lied was to be simple, easily singable with or without piano accompaniment. It
was to express emotion directly, without the intervention of art. It was to be volk-
stümlich (folklike)—if not literally a folksong from common use then a composi-
tion that would feel like a folksong and perhaps become one. It should have the
appearance of familiarity (Schein des Bekannten), so that it could be easily learned.31
To be sure, not all eighteenth-century German songs matched these ideals; ballads
in particular provided opportunities for experimentation, and Viennese Lieder,
including those by Mozart and Haydn, tended to have more active piano parts.32
The aesthetics of simplicity, singability, and Volkstümlichkeit were dominant, how-
ever. Nägeli’s “Die Liederkunst” makes entirely different claims for the genre,
namely that it would use all the resources of musical art combined with those of
poetry. (The word Kunst (art) in Nägeli’s title already points to the new aesthetic.)
This was in 1817, three years after Schubert wrote “Gretchen am Spinnrade,” the
remarkable song that is often said to mark the birth of the Romantic Lied. Nägeli
himself does not cite any of Schubert’s songs, nor would he have known them in
29. Nägeli, “Die Liederkunst,” 766. The italics are given as in Nägeli’s text.
30. Nägeli’s “Die Liederkunst” has not received much attention in the Anglo-American scholarship.
Beate Julia Perrey discusses the essay briefly as a precursor for Schumann’s practice and aesthetics:
see Perrey, Schumann’s Dichterliebe and Early Romantic Poetics: Fragmentation of Desire (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2002), 61–62. Marie-Agnes Dittrich cites one of Nägeli’s earlier essays,
from 1811, and may have been influenced by Nägeli when she describes a “polyrhythmic combining
of an accompaniment and quite differently structured vocal line” in “Gretchen am Spinnrade.” See
Dittrich, “The Lieder of Schubert,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Lied, ed. James Parsons
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 85 and 91. More extensive discussions of Nägeli’s
essay can be found in German scholarship; see especially Walther Dürr, Das deutsche Sololied im 19.
Jahrhundert: Untersuchungen zu Sprache und Musik (Wilhelmshaven: Heinrichshofen, 1984). Jon
Finson features the idea of polyrhythm in his notes on Schumann’s songs, citing Dürr and Nägeli;
see Finson, Robert Schumann, 6. Further mentions of polyrhythm in Finson’s book can be found via
the index entry “polyrhythmic lied.”
31. The most extended review of Lied aesthetics in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries is in
Heinrich W. Schwab, Sangbarkeit, Popularität und Kunstlied: Studien zu Lied und Liedästhetik der
mittleren Goethezeit 1770–1814 (Regensburg: Gustav Bosse Verlag, 1965). See also James Parsons,
“The Eighteenth-Century Lied,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Lied, ed. James Parsons
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 35–62; and J. W. Smeed, German Song and Its
Poetry 1740–1900 (London: Croom Helm, 1987), chap. 2.
32. Parsons, “The Eighteenth-Century Lied,” 54–56. See also Amanda Glauert, “The Lieder of Carl
Philipp Emanuel Bach, Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Lied,
ed. James Parsons (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 63–82.
1817. He seems to have been responding, however, to the same developments that
set the stage for Schubert’s achievement. As Schwab observes,“That which Schubert
was able to achieve in artistic practice, Nägeli presented—without having known
about Schubert—as a program in words.”33
The correspondence between Goethe and Zelter is often cited as an example of
the traditional aesthetic. The ideal for both was an identity of poem and song.
Goethe wrote to Zelter in 1820, “I feel that your compositions are, so to speak,
identical with my songs [i.e., poems]; the music, like gas blown into a balloon,
merely carries them into the heavens. With other composers, I must first observe
how they have conceived my song and what they have made of it.”34 Thus, at issue
is not only the simplicity of the setting, but also the degree to which music may add
to or interpret the poem at hand. Nägeli assumes that the music may indeed add
something, that the poem would be “idealized” in a new artistic whole.35
Nägeli’s “Polyrhythm” and Theories of Song
Nägeli’s notion that song may actively interpret the poem at hand becomes more
common in the nineteenth century, and it forms the basis for modern analyses
and interpretations. In a eulogy for Schubert from 1829, Josef von Spaun wrote,
“Whatever filled the poet’s breast[,] Schubert faithfully represented and transfig-
ured in each of his songs, as none has done before him. Every one of his song com-
positions is in reality a poem on the poem he set to music.”36 David Lewin develops
this idea dramaturgically in an article first published in 1982: “I find it suggestive
to conceive the relations of composer, text, and song as analogous to the relations
of actor, script, and dramatic reading.”37 For Lewin, furthermore, rhythmic rela-
tions, like Nägeli’s polyrhythm, are central to the Lied as dramatic reading: “In this
regard, one thinks of the rhythmic complexity of Schubert’s composition, with its
contrasts of expansion and contraction, of regularity and irregularity, of ostinato
clock time, musical phrase time, and text-line time.”38 (Schubert’s “Die Post” from
Winterreise is the song immediately at hand, but Lewin develops these ideas in his
analyses of “Auf dem Flusse” from Winterreise and other songs.)
Aspects of Nägeli’s theory also resonate in recent writings about persona and
voice in the Lied, for the elements in Nägeli’s polyrhythm (speech, singing, and
playing) are heard to constitute the semi-independent “voices” of a song’s personae.
Edward T. Cone introduced the idea of the musical persona in his classic text The
Composer’s Voice. The idea is that we may hear music, even without text, as a form
33. Schwab, Sangbarkeit, Popularität und Kunstlied, 171.

34. Cited and translated in Cone, “Words into Music,” 115. See also Parsons, “The Eighteenth-Century
Lied,” 60.
35. Nägeli, “Die Liederkunst,” 766.
36. Otto Erich Deutsch, The Schubert Reader, trans. Eric Blom (New York: Norton, 1947), 875.
37. David Lewin, “Auf dem Flusse: Image and Background in a Schubert Song,” in Studies in Music with
Text (New York: Oxford University, 2006), 110.
38. Lewin, “Auf dem Flusse,” 111. For another perspective on songs as interpretive readings of the poetic
texts, see Cone, “Words into Music.”
of utterance, conveying an experience. The experience is that of the musical per-

sona, like the character in a play, the narrator in a novel, or the lyric speaker of a
poem. As Cone puts it, “One might say that the expressive power of every art
depends on the communication of a certain kind of experience, and that each art
in its own way projects the illusion of the existence of a personal subject through
whose consciousness that experience is made known to the rest of us.”39 This
“personal subject” or “persona” is not the same as the composer, just as the narra-
tor in a novel is not the novelist.
In The Composer’s Voice, Cone theorized not one but three personae in accom-
panied song: a vocal persona (Nägeli’s “singing”), an instrumental persona (Nägeli’s
“playing”), and a complete musical persona. In a subsequent article, Cone suggests
that performers would benefit from thinking of the vocal and instrumental per-
sonas as one: “a singing poet, or, to give an old phrase something of its original
meaning, a lyric poet, in the sense of one who composes words and music
together.”40 (The idea of a complete musical persona then becomes superfluous.)
Following from Cone, Berthold Hoeckner offers what is perhaps the most satis-
fying interpretive framework:
My proposal . . . is to keep the basic conception of Cone’s earlier model, while accom-
modating his later modification: to adopt the notion of a single creative mind, while
still hearing independent voices. What is more, where Cone heard a complete musical
persona constituted by instrumental and vocal personae, I hear a triple voice, which
includes a poetic persona that remains on a par with the musical ones.41
The triple voice of Hoeckner’s model combines precisely those elements that con-
stitute Nägeli’s polyrhythm: the instrumental persona corresponds with Nägeli’s
playing, the vocal persona with Nägeli’s singing, and the poetic persona with
Nägeli’s speaking. The “single creative mind” in Hoeckner’s model produces Nägeli’s
“higher artistic whole.” Thus, the historical source (Nägeli) confirms modern
theory (Hoeckner), but it also indicates that we may benefit from a renewed
attention to the rhythmic interaction of poetic, vocal, and instrumental layers.42
For Nägeli, the polyrhythm of the newly emerging Lied is akin to instrumental
polyphony. He dwells on this analogy and uses it to situate the Lied as an art form
of high status (i.e., not a simple volkstümlich genre):
In reality such a small Lied can yet be a combinatorial artwork at a fairly high level;
indeed, I will say much more, and say it above all for the scholars of musical art to
hear: just as certainly as the polyrhythm established above is overall as important
39. Edward T. Cone, The Composer’s Voice (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974), 3.
40. Edward T. Cone, “Poet’s Love or Composer’s Love?” in Music and Text: Critical Inquiries, ed. Steven
Paul Scher (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 179.
41. Berthold Hoeckner, “Poet’s Love and Composer’s Love,” Music Theory Online 7, no. 5 (2001): 2.6.
42. Two additional sources on music-text relations in the Lied have been influential in recent years: Kofi
Agawu, “Theory and Practice in the Analysis of the Nineteenth-Century Lied,” Music Analysis 11,
no. 1 (1992): 3–36; and Lawrence M. Zbikowski, Conceptualizing Music: Cognitive Structure, Theory,
and Analysis (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), chap. 6. Agawu approaches signification in
song via Schenkerian analysis, Zbikowski via theories of metaphor and conceptual blending.
as polyphony, so certainly also is the vocal art even in the limits and forms of the
(single-voiced) Lied a combinatorial art, like the art of double counterpoint. . . . In
double counterpoint one musical line has to run parallel with another line, has to
be harmonized according to the requirements of (consonant) intervals; just so, and
not any different in its essentials, in vocal composition a melodic line has to run
parallel with a word-line [eine Tonreihe mit einer Wortreihe] and thereby be brought
into artistic accord.43
Thus, in Nägeli’s analogy we find a historical link between the Romantic Lied—as
a genre with artistic aspirations—and the nineteenth-century reception of baroque
polyphony. As it turns out, Nägeli himself played a critical role in the Bach revival
of the early nineteenth century. Nägeli purchased the autograph score of Bach’s B
minor Mass in 1805 and announced that he would issue a printed edition in 1818.
(There were not enough subscribers, and it was only in 1833 that he was able to
produce an edition of two of the movements.)44 We might, then, say that the poly-
rhythm-polyphony analogy is of purely historical interest, and not one to be
pressed into further use. Nägeli himself did not return to it in later writings.45 It
seems, though, that there is something there, a phenomenological truth. Just as we
may attend to individual voices in a polyphonic texture, hearing one then another
emerge and recede, we may attend to the voice, the accompaniment, and the words,
emerging and receding in independent rhythmic layers. This is the aesthetic plea-
sure of the “polyrhythmic” Lied.
In Nägeli’s analogy we find the idea that we may study rhythmic layering with
the same kind of attention given to counterpoint. This indeed is what music theo-
rists have done in recent years, taking the contrapuntally inspired ideas of Heinrich
Schenker as a model for theories of metric layering.46 In chapter 2, I will introduce
recent theories of musical meter with examples from the Lied. I will also introduce
methods of metric analysis and issues of perception. How do we hear the layered
motion of musical meters? How can we model our metric understanding, and
refine it? How is metric experience related to notation, both within and beyond the
conventions of time signatures, tempi, and bar lines? Answers to these questions
will prepare us for the analytical and interpretive study of songs from Hensel,
Schubert, and Schumann to Brahms and Wolf.
43. Nägeli, “Die Liederkunst,” 779–80.

44. See George B. Stauffer, Bach: The Mass in B Minor (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003),
180.
45. See Dürr, Das deutsche Sololied im 19. Jahrhundert, 17.
46. See the references in note 27 of this chapter and the discussion in chap. 2.
CHAPTER Two
Theories of Musical Rhythm and Meter
Rhythm and Meter in Western Notation
Western music notation has distinct theoretical elements, which are often taken
for granted. It will be valuable, first, to bring these theoretical components out into
the open. We will then see how recent theories of rhythm and meter both draw on
and depart from notation-related concepts.1
With notation, we have the names for a range of durations: the eighth, quarter,
half, whole, and so forth. These values are relative, not absolute (e.g., a quarter =
two eighths, a half note = two quarters). In comparison, pitch names designate
absolute values (A4=440 Hz). We can work out absolute durational values from
metronome markings, but even there, a performance will include expressive vari-
ation. The notational system also privileges duple relations since each (un-dotted)
notational value is in duple relations with the next slower and faster values. All of
this is, in a sense, already a theory. The theory says that duple relations are norma-
tive and that the relations between values are more important than the values
themselves.2 The relative designation of durational values has a practical function;
one can perform a pattern notated in relative durations much more easily than
absolute durations.
As noted above, performances include expressive variation. The point here is
that durational values indicate perceptual categories. A quarter note may be slightly
1. My purpose here is to link theories of musical meter with concepts that are gained in music lessons
and music fundamentals courses. This is part of a broader attempt by music theorists, in recent years,
to connect theory and pedagogy, as in the incorporation of Schenkerian theory in undergraduate
texts. For more on this trend and the history behind it, see Richard Cohn, “Music Theory’s New
Pedagogability,” Music Theory Online 4, no. 2 (1998); and Patrick McCreless, “Rethinking
Contemporary Music Theory,” in Keeping Score: Music, Disciplinarity, Culture, ed. David Schwarz,
Anahid Kassabian, and Lawrence Siegel (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1997), 13–53.
2. The triple relation was privileged in early rhythmic notation and theory; see Anna Maria Busse
Berger, “The Evolution of Rhythmic Notation,” in The Cambridge History of Western Music Theory,
ed. Thomas Christensen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 628–56.
35
longer or slightly shorter depending on its position in the measure and phrase, but
we still hear it as a quarter. Similarly, we will continue to hear a quarter as a quarter
through gradual changes of tempo. Studies in expressive timing measure these dif-
ferences in individual performances and performance traditions.3 Theories of
rhythm and meter, however, often go with the notation and with our perception of
basic durational categories.
In Western notation since the seventeenth century a “meter” is given by the time
signature, bar lines, and beaming, and there are “rhythms” formed by durational pat-
terns. The rhythms are situated in various metric positions, however, and this influ-
ences their identity. The three rhythms in example 2.1 have the same durational
pattern, but we would not say that they are the “same rhythm.”4 They each have a dif-
ferent feel, a different sense of energy and direction, because of their relations to the
downbeat. The theory here, indicated by the notation, is that meter provides a
background for the performance and perception of musical rhythm. Notice that
meter is conceived as a singular, unchanging background, a framework for the per-
ception of rhythm in all its expressive multiplicity. The meter of a movement of
course can change, but this requires a special intervention, a new time signature. In
common-practice styles, a movement or song typically has one meter, just as it typi-
cally has one key. This is one aspect of notation that modern theory has challenged.
Meter itself is conceived as variable and dependent on the rhythmic patterning.
Example 2.1: A Durational Pattern in Three Metric Contexts
34
34
34
Metric Theory: An Introduction
Recent metric theory offers several things beyond notation and basic musical
pedagogy.5 It offers a way of talking about rhythm and meter from an experien-
tial point of view. It asks, How do we experience musical rhythm and meter in
3. See Richard Hudson, Stolen Time: The History of Tempo Rubato (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994); and
Justin London, Hearing in Time: Psychological Aspects of Musical Meter (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2004), 144–52. As London observes, timing variations are not deviations from a norm but,
rather, are the norm (p. 150).
4. I also present and discuss the rhythms of example 2.1 in my paper “Metric Analysis and the Metaphor
of Energy: A Way into Selected Songs by Wolf and Schoenberg,” Music Theory Spectrum 30, no. 1
(2008): 64.
5. Important contributions from the 1970s and ’80s, in rough chronological order, are Maury Yeston, The
Stratification of Musical Rhythm (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1976); Robert P. Morgan,
CHAPTER 2 Theories of Musical Rhythm and Meter 37
general and in specific musical contexts? How do contour, tonal stability and
instability, harmonic rhythm, texture, dynamic accents, and parallel structures
affect our perception of rhythm and meter? A piece or song may be notated in
3/4, but what is it that makes us hear it in 3/4? And how is this 3/4 different from
any other 3/4? Metric theory also offers more generalized ways of describing
metric states and layers. Notation has been finely honed as a prescriptive tool to
guide performance. We need different tools, however, when we are engaged in
description and analysis.
Let us approach metric theory with an example. Example 2.2 provides the piano
figuration from the beginning of Hensel’s “Schwanenlied” (Song of the Swan), Op. 1
No. 1, published in 1846. A dot diagram above the score shows the periodicities
involved.6 We may refer to each periodicity as a metric layer. Dots immediately
above the score show the sixteenth-note layer. At the next level up, dots show a
duple grouping of the sixteenth, and thus an eighth note layer. At the next level, dots
show a threefold grouping of the eighths, and thus a dotted-quarter layer. Finally,
dots at the highest level show a duple grouping of the dotted quarters and thus a
Example 2.2: Hensel, “Schwanenlied,” Op. 1 No. 1, piano figuration, mm. 1–2
6
8
6
tutto legato

8

“The Theory and Analysis of Tonal Rhythm,” Musical Quarterly 64, no. 4 (1978): 435–73; Carl
Schachter, “Rhythm and Linear Analysis: A Preliminary Study,” “Rhythm and Linear Analysis:
Aspects of Meter,” and “Rhythm and Linear Analysis: Durational Reduction,” in Unfoldings, ed.
Joseph N. Straus (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999 [1976, 1980, 1987]); Fred Lerdahl and Ray
Jackendoff, A Generative Theory of Tonal Music (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1983); Joel Lester, The
Rhythms of Tonal Music (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1986); and William
Rothstein, Phrase Rhythm in Tonal Music (New York: Schirmer Books, 1989). Further developments
from the 1990s and current decade can be found in Richard Cohn, “The Dramatization of
Hypermetric Conflicts in the Scherzo of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony,” 19th-Century Music 15, no. 3
(1992): 188–206; “Metric and Hypermetric Dissonance in the Menuetto of Mozart’s Symphony in G
Minor, K. 550,” Intégral 6 (1992): 1–33; and “Complex Hemiolas, Ski-Hill Graphs, and Metric Spaces,”
Music Analysis 20, no. 3 (2001): 295–326; Harald Krebs, Fantasy Pieces: Metrical Dissonance in the
Music of Robert Schumann (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999). Christopher Hasty presents a
challenge to the traditional rhythm/meter dichotomy; see Hasty, Meter as Rhythm (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1997). Justin London enriches modern theory by drawing on studies in perception;
see London, Hearing in Time.
6. The dot diagrams are adapted from Lerdahl and Jackendoff, A Generative Theory of Tonal Music. See
also the “coffee bean” diagrams in Krebs, Fantasy Pieces, chap. 2.
dotted half-note layer, which corresponds with the notated measures. There are four
layers, and we can represent them with their notational values: [x/e/q./h.]. To facil-
itate comparison with other metric states, we may represent the layers numerically.
Taking the sixteenth as the unit, the layers are: [1/2/6/12]. We may also be interested
in showing the ratios between the layers. The x/e ratio is duple, the e/q. ratio is
triple, and the q./h. ratio is duple; as a whole, we can represent these ratios as
[2,3,2].7
The dot diagram maintains a conventional mapping: left-to-right in space
equals passage of time. In this regard, it works like musical notation and works well
as annotation for musical scores. Vertically aligned dots represent simultaneities,
also as in musical notation. Further mappings that do not correspond with musical
notation are implicit here. I have situated the slower periodicities above the faster
periodicities. This corresponds with a mapping in which “higher metric levels”
(i.e., slower periodicities) are said to interpret “lower metric levels” (i.e., faster peri-
odicities). Dot diagrams are frequently placed below musical scores with the fast-
est periodicities at the top, that is, closest to the score. This yields other mappings.
The slower periodicities may then be read as being “at the foundation” or “at deeper
levels” of the metric hierarchy. This placement happens not to be as practical for
music with text, since the text goes below the vocal line.8
What we have here is a set of tools for identifying metric layers and their rela-
tions. The general point is that meter consists of a set of aligned periodicities, or, in
other words, it structures linear time in cyclical form at multiple levels. In the
common-practice style, the periodicities or metric layers are most often in either
duple or triple relations. As we observed in chapter 1, poetic meter and form also
involve multiple layers, from the syllable and foot to the line, couplet (or tercet),
and quatrain or strophe. The difference is that the layers of poetic meter do not
typically involve perceptual isochrony, beats that are perceived to be of equal dura-
tion. This, in fact, is a general difference between musical and spoken rhythm, as
Aniruddh Patel observes (with support from empirical studies).9 The implication
for the Lied is that a composer who wishes to create the effect of speech can do so
by writing vocal lines with variable rhythms, as in recitative. Nägeli recognized this
possibility in his article “Die Liederkunst” from 1817. Speech may come forth
within the “polyrhythmic” Lied, according to Nägeli, “When in the same piece
7. I take the term “metrical layer” and the use of numbers to refer to individual layers from Krebs,
Fantasy Pieces. The notation of metric relations is adapted from Cohn, “The Dramatization of
Hypermetric Conflicts.” I have referenced the layers and ratios here from the bottom up: that is,
starting with the unit and its grouping, to follow the preceding exposition. Krebs and Cohn, on the
other hand, reference layers and ratios from the top down, starting from the longest duration and
its division. The top-down and bottom-up methods each have heuristic value, depending on the
analytical context. Cohn’s graphic representation for metric states will be introduced later in the
chapter.
8. For further discussion of cross-domain mappings in music theory, see Lawrence M. Zbikowski,
Conceptualizing Music: Cognitive Structure, Theory, and Analysis (New York: Oxford University Press,
2002), chap. 2.
9. Aniruddh D. Patel, Music, Language, and the Brain (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008),
121–22.
sometimes three poetic feet, sometimes two, sometimes one are set in the
measure.”10
We often speak of “strong” and “weak” beats in a given meter. Here we can gener-
alize this idea and apply it to multiple levels of the metric hierarchy. The metrically
strong beats at any level are those that coincide with beats at the next level up. Thus, in
the 6/8 meter of Hensel’s “Schwanenlied,” the dotted-quarter beat on the bar line is
metrically strong since it coincides with the dotted half. At the eighth-note level, the
first eighth in each group of three is metrically strong since it coincides with the
dotted-quarter layer. The strong sixteenths are those that coincide with the eighth-note
layer. The dot diagram gives an overall impression of metric contour. Four dots on the
downbeat show that it is the strongest. Three beats on the second dotted quarter show
that it is weaker than the downbeat but stronger than the rest of the bar, and so on.
To put this in experiential terms, we hear events in musical time through a
hierarchy of interlocking periodicities, and we usually do so without being aware
of it. Of course it takes a moment at the beginning of a song, piece, or passage to
orient ourselves to the meter. Once we have a feel for the meter, however, we hear
and interpret events in its context. As Joel Lester observes, meter in the rhythmic
domain is like tonality in the pitch domain: “For just as a pitch in tonal music
receives its functional meaning from its location in relation to the prevailing tonic
and the prevailing harmonic-melodic interaction, an event . . . receives part of its
rhythmic meaning from its location in the grid of measures, beats, and their sub-
divisions.”11 Tonality and meter both create a perspective, a point of view, so to
speak, that gives meaning to specific events.
Let’s take the example of the B b4, circled in the first measure of example 2.2. We
hear this as an event on the third eighth in the first beat of the measure. Thus, we
hear it in relation to three metric layers: the eighth, the dotted-quarter beat, and
the measure. I have also circled an E b4 in m. 2; we hear this as an event on the sec-
ond sixteenth of the second eighth of the second dotted-quarter-note beat in the
measure. We are much less likely to hear it as the ninth sixteenth note in the mea-
sure, even less as the twenty-second sixteenth note in the song! It may seem like a
complex cognitive feat to organize all these interacting periodicities. This is, how-
ever, what we do, and it enables an efficient processing of sonic events.
The question, again from an experiential point of view, is what leads us to hear
a particular set of periodicities? This is where we flip the equation, so to speak, and
consider how meter is formed from rhythmic patterning. (Before we were thinking
about how rhythmic events were interpreted in a given metric context.) Basically,
we perceive metric layers in response to parallel musical structures and events that
draw attention to themselves at regular intervals. In the accompaniment to
“Schwanenlied,” the stream of sixteenth notes is obvious. The dotted-quarter layer
is clearly projected by the recurring arpeggio patterns, with bass pitches at the
10. Hans Georg Nägeli, “Die Liederkunst,” Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung 45 (1817): 762. Nägeli also
mentions rapid declamation, which is an obvious speechlike effect. On the other hand, his discussion
of speech rhythm veers into ideas about how it may be “raised” into a “higher singing rhythm,” and
in this regard it becomes harder to follow.
11. Lester, The Rhythms of Tonal Music, 52.
beginning of each dotted-quarter span. In between, the eighth-note layer is not as

clearly projected. One might group the sixteenths in each arpeggio as three groups
of two (i.e., three eighths) or as two groups of three (i.e., two dotted eighths). The
shape of the arpeggios favors the eighth-note interpretation, since the highpoint
lands consistently on an eighth-note beat.
Example 2.3 provides further musical context; this is the first strophe of
Hensel’s “Schwanenlied” with piano and voice. Once the voice enters, it reinforces
the eighth-note pulse. What about the dotted half-note layer, corresponding with
the notated measures? We would hear this as a duple grouping of the piano arpeg-
gios. The piano does not project a duple grouping in any obvious way at the
opening. The entrance of the singer with a pickup to m. 2, however, supports this
Example 2.3: Hensel, “Schwanenlied,” Op. 1 No. 1, mm. 1–9

Andante
6
8

Es fällt ein Stern her - un - ter
6

8

tutto legato
6
8

4

aus sei - ner fun keln - den Höh, das ist der Stern der

e simile
7

poco ritard

a Tempo

Lie - be, den ich dort fal - len seh. Es

poco ritard
a Tempo

grouping, and the piano itself reinforces the notated measures with its harmonic
changes as the song proceeds. (See especially the dominant arrival in m. 5 and the
harmonic changes in mm. 6–9.)
Theorists have used “accent” as a general term for events that draw attention to
themselves. As we observed, such events tend to generate metric layers when they
recur at regular intervals. Accented events include not only dynamic accents
(louder events among softer ones), but also agogic accents (longer durations among
shorter ones), registral accents (higher events among lower, or the reverse), accents
associated with harmonic or textural change, and the beginning of any melodic or
text unit. In our analysis of “Schwanenlied,” we referenced registral accents (the
bass pitches and the top of each arpeggio) and harmonic change. In vocal music,
there are also accented syllables. To be clear, in many cases “accented” events do not
need to be brought out in any particular way by the performer. Registral accents
and harmonic changes, for example, draw attention to themselves.12
Agogic accents (longer durations) deserve further attention, because they may
be less familiar. We tend to hear longer durations as the beginnings of metric spans,
all else being equal. Thus, in a pattern of alternating long and short durations, we
tend to hear a metric layer beginning with the long durations. The rhythm 68 q eq
e|q eq e| flows smoothly since agogic and metric accents coincide. This is the pre-
dominant vocal rhythm of “Schwanenlied” and of most songs in 6/8. In comparison,
8 eq eq |eq eq | is more sprung; we have to work to place the metric accent with
6
the shorter duration.
Hypermeter
Now, if any series of accented events occurring at regular intervals may generate a
metric layer, then metric layers may exist beyond or in opposition to the notated
meter. This idea is at the foundation of much of the recent work in metric theory
and analysis, and it will be important in our study of rhythm and meter in the Lied.
It is also a contentious issue, and we will ease our way into it. The first, relatively
clear situation occurs when metric layers establish themselves beyond the level of
the bar line; there may be accented events at the beginning of every other measure,
and we may thus hear the downbeat of one measure as “stronger” than the down-
beat of the next. Measures may be grouped metrically in threes or fours. Recall also
that parallel structures reinforce metric layers, and such structures frequently span
more than a single measure. In other words, there are situations in which it makes
musical sense to count measures in the same way that we count beats within a
measure. Metric organization beyond the level of the notated measure is called
hypermeter. Hypermeter is not usually indicated in the score directly.13 It is a
12. For a further discussion of accent types, see Lester, The Rhythms of Tonal Music, chap. 2.
13. The Scherzo of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony is an exceptional case. Beethoven indicates a ritmo di tre
battute for the development and a ritmo di quattro battute for the retransition. These reference what
we would call a three-bar and four-bar hypermeter. The autograph manuscript shows a concern for
further level of hypermetric organization. See Cohn, “The Dramatization of Hypermetric Conflicts.”
feature of our perception, which we can explain by referencing accented events

and parallel structures.14
Hypermeter occurs frequently in the Lied. For an example, we may turn again
to Hensel’s “Schwanenlied.” Let us first take note of the poetic meter, for this will
affect how we hear the song. The first strophe sets a traditional volkstümlich qua-
train in iambic trimeter, with alternating unaccented and accented endings:
Es fällt ein Stérn herúnter A star falls down

Aus séiner fúnkelnden Hö́h, From its sparkling height,
Das íst der Stérn der Líebe, It is the star of love,
Den ích dort fállen séh. Which I see falling there.
Hensel substitutes trochees for the initial iambs of lines 2 and 4, performing them
as “Áus seiner fúnkelnden Hö́h” and “Dén ich dort fállen seh.” (There is an added
weak syllable on “fúnkelnden Hö́h”; this quickens the pace and expresses something
of the nature of a “sparkling” star. And when we hear “seh” rhyming very weakly
with “Höh” we experience a kind of disappointment, like that of the poem’s falling
love. This is a subtle example of Heine’s famous irony, which undercuts the aura of
folk simplicity.)
Example 2.4 provides the vocal line on its own with a dot diagram. The diagram
shows three layers: the bar line and two-bar layers, and a four-bar layer in paren-
theses. The parentheses indicate that one may or may not hear this layer metrically.
(I will say more about what it means to hear metrically in a moment.) The two- and
four-bar layers are hypermetric; they extend beyond the bar line. With this annota-
tion, in other words, I claim that we may hear not only the notated 6/8 meter, but
also the bars themselves grouped metrically in two and possibly in four. This should
be verified first of all experientially, that is, by singing or listening to the song and
conducting the hypermeter. For the two-bar hypermeter, one may conduct in four
Example 2.4: Hensel, “Schwanenlied,” mm. 2–9 with dot diagram for the
hypermeter
( )
6
8

Es fällt ein Stern her - un - ter aus sei - ner fun- keln -den Höh, das
( )
6

ist der Stern der Lie - be den ich dort fal - len seh. Es
14. Hypermeter is addressed in many of the studies cited in note 5 of this chapter. I will reference these
and further studies in relation to particular issues as we proceed.
with the dotted quarter as the beat. For the four-bar hypermeter, one may conduct
in four with the measure as the beat, subdividing for the dotted quarters. The tempo
is also important; it should be Andante with the piano’s sixteenth-note figuration in
mind (see ex. 2.3). The first measure is treated as an extended upbeat in these inter-
pretations; the first hypermetric downbeat is on m. 2.
The hypermetric analysis is pertinent if these conducting patterns correlate
with perceived periodic structures. We may then point to these periodic structures
in support of the analysis. The downbeats of even-numbered bars correspond with
the beginnings of the poetic lines, and we hear the lines as distinct units because of
the regular [1, 2 / 1 -] schema. There are also parallelisms in the vocal line at the
four-bar (= poetic couplet) level. The singer begins each couplet with an eighth
pickup (mm. 2 and 6) and proceeds to extend the unaccented line endings to the
second beat (mm. 3 and 7). She begins the odd-numbered lines on the downbeat,
with the trochaic substitution (mm. 4 and 8) and concludes each couplet with a
cadence on the downbeat (mm. 5 and 9). Measures 4 and 8, furthermore, have
parallel melodic figures—a lower neighbor and upward leap. The beginning of the
second couplet in m. 6 inverts the beginning of the first couplet in m. 2; this is also
a relation that reinforces and is reinforced by the hypermetric hearing.
Example 2.5 reproduces the vocal line from “Schwanenlied” again, now with
numeric annotation for the hypermeter. The layout of the numeric annotation is
similar to that of the dot diagram, but here each number indicates the duration of
a metric or hypermetric layer, measured in notated-bar units. This is the form that
hypermetric annotations will take from here on, and we will use a similar method
to show layers that are in conflict with the notated meter.15 We will also continue
Example 2.5: Hensel, “Schwanenlied,” mm. 2–9 with numeric annotation for the
hypermeter
(4)
2 2
6
8
Es fällt ein Stern her - un - ter aus sei - ner fun- keln -den Höh, das
(4)

2 2

6

ist der Stern der Lie - be den ich dort fal - len seh. Es
15. Analysts frequently indicate hypermeter with counting numbers; a two-bar hypermeter, for example,
is indicated with “1” over the first bar and “2” over the second bar. The annotation here, on the other
hand, indicates the beginning of each hypermetric span and its length in a given unit. This can be
used effectively for multiple levels of hypermeter and also for metric conflicts. I adapt the annota-
tion method from Krebs, Fantasy Pieces. Krebs himself uses this method for metric conflicts, but he
uses the counting method for hypermetric analysis; see Krebs, “Hypermeter and Hypermetric
Irregularity in the Songs of Josephine Lang,” in Engaging Music: Essays in Music Analysis, ed.
Deborah J. Stein (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 13–29.
to use numeric annotations for declamatory schemas, as in chapter 1. For the sake
of clarity, the two forms of annotation will not be combined in individual examples.
Declamatory schema annotations may be distinguished visually by the square
brackets, demarcating poetic lines.
Now, it may seem that hypermeter is basically the same as phrase rhythm. After
all, the four-bar hypermeter in “Schwanenlied” coincides almost exactly with four-
bar phrases. The only difference is that the phrases begin with eighth-note pickups,
whereas the hypermetric downbeats occur on notated downbeats. Hypermeter
and regular phrase rhythm often coincide, especially in the Lied, but they are dif-
ferent analytical concepts. A musical phrase is a unit of melodic and harmonic
motion that ends in a cadence. Hypermeter involves the perception of regular
periodicity beyond the bar line. It is dependent neither on tonal motion nor on
arrival at a cadence.16
Metric Perception and the Limits of Hypermeter
There is one further issue to be addressed in our discussion of hypermeter. In our

experiment with “Schwanenlied,” some readers may have felt more comfortable
with the two-bar hypermeter than the four-bar. Four measures may have simply
felt like too long a span to hear metrically. Some readers also may have felt that
conducting with the measure as the beat was awkward. Such readers are regis-
tering general features of our temporal perception, documented in empirical
studies. Let us first of all take up the issue of the beat. Studies have shown that we
generally entrain to beats in the range of 200 to 2,000 milliseconds (ms); that is,
from a fifth of a second to two seconds.17 “Entraining to a beat” refers to the process
by which we attune ourselves to a periodicity, so that we have a precise expectation
of when the next event will occur. Entrainment can happen internally, or it can be
expressed through bodily movement such as tapping, conducting, marching, or
dancing. (Entrainment frequently has an energizing effect, and it contributes to
our sense of social cohesion.) Beats occurring at a rate faster than five per second
are simply too fast to entrain to. We hear them as a stream rather than as beats, or
we group them together in units of two or three to form beats. Similarly, it is diffi-
cult to coordinate expectations or bodily movement with periodicities that are
slower than two seconds per cycle (or 30 bpm). We cannot anticipate very well
when the next event will occur.
Tactus is a term for that periodicity to which we entrain most strongly—the
beat we tap with or conduct. The tactus often corresponds with the notated beat,
but not always, and its existence does not depend on notation. The choice of tactus
varies among listeners, and it depends on musical context, but there is also a
preferred range. Periodicities around 120 bpm (500 mls) are most salient, and
16. See the discussion of phrase and hypermeter in Rothstein, Phrase Rhythm in Tonal Music, chap. 1.
See also Krebs, “Hypermeter and Hypermetric Irregularity in the Songs of Josephine Lang,” 18–20.
17. London, Hearing in Time, 31.
those in the 81–162 bpm range (370–740 mls) are common.18 Periodicities in a
broader range of 30–300 bpm (200–2000 mls) are considered possible, as noted
above. In the Lied, poetic feet are often set one per tactus, with breaks at line or
couplet endings. (See the discussion of declamatory schemas in chapter 1.) When
poetic feet are set more rapidly, we get a more declamatory feel; when they are set
more slowly, the feeling is more lyrical and drawn out. The setting of poetic feet
may also influence our choice of tactus in a given song or passage. It seems that in
ambiguous situations, we tend to go with the level of the poetic feet, that is, one
tactus per accented syllable.19
Now, we may tune in to periodicities longer than two seconds per cycle when
they are divided by periodicities within the normal entrainment range. In such
situations metric experience is said to extend up to around six seconds.20 This
observation forms the basis for our perception of hypermeter. Contra dancers
may relate to it from the fact that they don’t have to think about the cycles of
four, eight, or even sixteen steps. One simply has a feel for these units. Anticipating
the renewal and change with each larger cycle is part of the fun.
In a recording on Hyperion, Susan Gritton and Eugene Asti perform
“Schwanenlied” with the dotted quarter at around 44 bpm.21 This might seem slow
for Andante, on paper, but it feels about right since the regular eighths at three
times this speed also contribute to the feeling of tempo. The dotted quarter at 44
bpm is well within the typical entrainment range. The bar-line pulse, however, ends
up being 22 bpm or 2726 mls, beyond the typical range of entrainment. In other
words, we feel the bar line pulse metrically, but we do so via groupings of the
dotted quarter-note pulse. This is why conducting with the measure as the beat
may feel awkward, why the beat feels simply “too slow.” (It should feel more musical
if one subdivides each conducting beat.) Extending up to hypermetric levels, the
two-bar layer is at 5452 mls, or close to six seconds, and the four-bar layer is at
10,904 mls, or around eleven seconds. Studies in perception suggest that the former
is within the range of metric experience, whereas the latter is not. Now, we need
not take six seconds as an absolute limit. The studies are typically based on simple
pulse patterns, rather than fully formed musical contexts. It is possible that with
training and fully formed musical contexts, our metric experience extends beyond
the six seconds. My sense, however, is that there is a significant qualitative difference
in our experience of the two-bar and four-bar periodicities in “Schwanenlied” that
is not only a function of musical content. The two-bar periodicities do indeed feel
more metrical. To put it in other words, I feel the two-bar units as temporal gestalts,
18. Dirk Moelants, “Preferred Tempo Reconsidered” (paper presented at the seventh International
Conference on Music Perception and Cognition, Sydney, 2002). See also Peter A. Martens, “Beat-
Finding, Listener Strategies, and Musical Meter” (PhD diss., University of Chicago, 2005); and
Martin F. McKinney and Dirk Moelants, “Ambiguity in Tempo Perception: What Draws Listeners to
Different Metrical Levels?” Music Perception 24, no. 2 (2006): 155–66.
19. I base this on my own intuition and observation. To the best of my knowledge there have not been
empirical studies on beat choice in the Lied or other art-song genres.
21. Susan Gritton and Eugene Asti, Fanny Mendelssohn Lieder, Hyperion CDA67110.
as extended moments of present time. I do not feel the four-bar units in quite the
same way.22
Since the work of William James in the late nineteenth century, psychologists have
observed that we do not experience present time as an instant, moving from past to
future like a cursor. Rather, we experience the present as a series of moments, each with
some duration. The “psychological present” is a term for the span of time in which
information is available for immediate processing.23 The duration of the psychological
present varies, but its upper limit is thought to be around five to seven seconds, like the
upper limit of metric perception.24 It is this psychological present that I referenced
when speaking of the two-bar spans as extended moments of present time.
Studies of temporal perception and memory in fact correlate broadly with
studies of rhythmic entrainment. Psychologists speak of three different forms of
memory: sensory memory, short-term or working memory, and long-term memory.
Candace Brower summarizes this research.25 As she describes it, sensory memory
is a precognitive store, thought to last up to two seconds. We use sensory memory
for basic rhythmic entrainment. Short-term or working memory is at the next
level; it is the memory we use to keep information available for present processing.
We use working memory when we process a sentence or musical phrase as a whole,
and working memory is involved in our perception of periods longer than two
seconds. “Long-term” memory is then a catchall for those situations in which we
have to bring a past event back into our present awareness. This might be an event
from earlier in a song, say ten or twenty seconds before, it might be an event from
earlier in the day, or from last year. Our perception of musical form beyond the
phrase depends on long-term memory, as does our knowledge of repertoire and
awareness of stylistic norms.
The distinction between sensory and working memory is worth keeping in
mind since it correlates with the difference between basic entrainment and metric
groupings with spans that are two seconds or longer. The implication, in other
words, is that while we still experience periodicities longer than two seconds met-
rically, we do so indirectly, through a process of metric grouping. And as Brower
observes, this affects our perception of syncopation and metric malleability. Metric
layers under 1800 mls, experienced via sensory memory, are more durable than
the higher-level metric groupings. We are more likely to maintain a consistent beat
and feel syncopation against the beat at the lower levels. At higher levels, accented
events working against an established meter are more likely to lead to metric rein-
terpretation. It is easy to ignore these differences with the recursive technology of
dot diagrams. A duple relation at lower levels seems to be the same as a duple
relation at higher levels. Studies in perception and our musical experience
encourage us to keep the differences in mind. Analysts have frequently used metric
22. For further discussions of the limits of hypermeter, see Lerdahl and Jackendoff, A Generative Theory
of Tonal Music, 21–25; Lester, The Rhythms of Tonal Music, 161–63; and Cohn, “The Dramatization
of Hypermetric Conflicts,” 196–97.
23. Candace Brower, “Memory and the Perception of Rhythm,” Music Theory Spectrum 15, no. 1 (1993):
22.
25. Brower, “Memory and the Perception of Rhythm.”
reductions in the analysis of hypermeter. All durations are reduced proportionally,

and hypermetric spans become notated measures. Such reductions are useful as
analytical tools, and one may perform them to get a feel for hypermetric relations,
but, as Brower notes, they override differences in temporal perception.26
Hypermeter, Phrase Rhythm, and “Shadow Meter”
As we have observed, four-bar phrases are common in the Lied, and they often
align with hypermetric spans at two- and four-bar levels. (Phrases, however, fre-
quently include a pickup, just before a hypermetric downbeat.) As a result, cadences
in the fourth bar of the phrase are hypermetrically weak. In “Schwanenlied,” for
instance, there are cadences in mm. 5 and 9, but the hypermetric downbeats are on
even-numbered measures. (See the dot annotations in ex. 2.4.)
Two observations follow from this common situation. One has to do with anal-
ysis and understanding and, by implication, also performance, and one with com-
positional choice. I will take up the analytical issue first. Cadences receive a certain
kind of rhythmic emphasis, as points of arrival, and one may therefore want to
hear the entire hypermetric structure shifted, so that the cadences align with
hypermetric downbeats. Each phrase and phrase segment is then heard to lead
forward toward a hypermetric downbeat, and one may think of the phrases this
way in performance. Hensel’s “Schwanenlied” provides an interesting example in
this regard, since it begins with a single-measure introduction. One may conduct
it with hypermetric downbeats starting from the first measure and continuing on
odd-numbered measures. The phrase beginnings are no longer marked as such in
this interpretation; they enter and join with an ongoing flow.
There is a genuine ambiguity in this regard, although the tendency in recent
analysis has been to treat phrase beginnings as hypermetric downbeats and accept
the tension of hypermetrically weak cadences.27 In the case of “Schwanenlied,” one
simply takes the first measure as an extended anacrusis, as in our original interpre-
tation. This approach is supported by a certain feature of compositional practice,
and here we move to the second issue mentioned above. Composers frequently
extend vocal phrases so that the cadence arrives on the fifth measure, which then
is also a new beginning and a hypermetric downbeat—assuming we began
counting or conducting hypermeter from the first measure. Such extensions tend
to occur at the ends of strophes; there is rhetorical emphasis with an augmentation
of declamatory rhythm (sometimes also text repetition), stronger emphasis on the
cadence, and continuity as the cadence coincides with a new beginning. It may be
a piano interlude or postlude that elides with the cadence. An alternative, related
26. Brower, “Memory and the Perception of Rhythm,” 19–20. Examples of metric reduction can be
found in Cohn, “The Dramatization of Hypermetric Conflicts”; David Lewin, “Auf dem Flusse:
Image and Background in a Schubert Song,” in Studies in Music with Text (New York: Oxford
University, 2006), 109–33; Rothstein, Phrase Rhythm in Tonal Music; and Carl Schachter, “Rhythm
and Linear Analysis: Durational Reduction.”
27. Rothstein, Phrase Rhythm in Tonal Music, 27–29.
practice is to elide a new beginning with the cadence in the fourth bar. This forces
a hypermetric reinterpretation; coming into it, we hear the fourth bar as hyper-
metrically weak (i.e., as the continuation of a hypermetric span), and we then rein-
terpret it as a hypermetric downbeat. With this second option, there is no
rhythmically augmented declamation, but there is emphasis on the cadence and
continuity through elision.
The first strophe of Hensel’s “Wanderlied,” Op. 1 No. 2, illustrates an extended
phrase, arriving on a hypermetric downbeat; see example 3.3 (web) . Numbers
at the bar lines reference a two-bar hypermeter, which aligns with phrase begin-
nings. (In this case the piano introduction is also two measures long.) Hensel
repeats “da bewegt sichs wie Gesang” in mm. 10–13, augmenting the declamatory
rhythm, and the cadence arrives with a hypermetric downbeat (m. 13). Measure 13
also begins the two-bar interlude, which transposes the opening to V. The rhetor-
ical emphasis on “da bewegt sichs wie Gesang” (then it moves like song) ends up
being entirely apropos since it references song in motion, perhaps the very song
moving at that moment. The harmonies, of course, are also extended; one can ima-
gine a hypothetical non-extended version in which the eighth note motion in the
left hand, mm. 9–10, continues through. The dominant would arrive on the second
half of m. 11 and the cadence in m. 12. We find an elided cadence without the
phrase extension in Hensels “Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass.” Example 3.4
(web) provides a score; a repeat of the two-bar introduction elides with
cadences in mm. 18 and 35. We will explore the hypermetric reinterpretation and
its expressive functions in chapter 3.
The ambiguity outlined above, as to whether one hears primary metrical
accents at the beginnings or ends of vocal phrases, may also affect metric percep-
tion within the notated measure. In tetrameter settings, especially, the final accented
syllable of a couplet may arrive with a cadence in the middle of a measure. This
occurs, for instance, in the tetrameter schemas [1, 2 / 1, 2] and [1, 2 - / 1, 2 -]. We
may then hear the beat associated with the cadences as a downbeat, and the notated
downbeat as an upbeat. William Rothstein has discussed this situation, and he
describes the alternate meter, aligned with cadences, as a “shadow meter.”28 (The
term applies equally to the alternate interpretation of hypermeter, above, and to
instrumental music.) Rothstein cites the sixth song from Beethoven’s An die ferne
Geliebte as an example. The poem is in trochaic tetrameter, “Nímm sie hín denn,
díese Líeder, / díe ich dír, Gelíebte, sáng . . .,” and Beethoven sets it in 2/4 with the
declamatory schema [1, 2 / 1, 2]; see example 2.6. As Rothstein observes, a number
of factors conspire with the cadences to encourage a shadow meter hearing with
the notated second beat as the downbeat. The second and fourth poetic feet receive
primary accents in many of the lines, as in “Nìmm sie hín denn, dìese Líeder”
(marked here with acute and grave accents), these are placed on the second beat,
28. William Rothstein,“Beethoven With and Without ‘Kunstgepräng’: Metrical Ambiguity Reconsidered,”
in Beethoven Forum 4, ed. Christopher Reynolds, Lewis Lockwood, and James Webster (Lincoln:
University of Nebraska Press, 1995), 167. The term “shadow meter” comes originally from Frank
Samarotto’s “Strange dimensions: Regularity and Irregularity in Deep Levels of Rhythmic Reduction,”
a paper delivered at the Second International Schenker Symposium in 1992 and subsequently pub-
lished in Schenker Studies II (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 222–38.
and there are occasional high points on the second beat (mm. 9 and 15).29 As
Rothstein also observes, however, the shadow meter does not replace the primary,
notated meter. Intriguingly, when Schumann quotes this song in his Fantasy,
Op. 17, and in the finale of the Second Symphony, the shadow meter does become
primary.30 This is indicative of Schumann’s radical approach to meter, documented
with precision and breadth by Harald Krebs.31
Example 2.6: Beethoven, “Nimm sie hin denn, diese Lieder,” Op. 98 No. 6,
mm. 9–17
[1 2 1 2] [1 2
2
9

4
Nimm sie hin denn, die - se Lie - der, die ich dir, Ge -
2
4

2
4
1 2] [1 2 1 2]

12

lieb - te, sang, sin - ge sie dann A - bends wie - der

[1 2 1 2]

15

zu der Lau - te sü - ssem Klang!

29. Rothstein, “Beethoven with and without ‘Kunstgepräng,’” 167–69. The annotations in example 2.6
show the declamatory schema in relation to the notated meter. Rothstein annotates the score with
shadow-meter beat numbers to show the alternate hearing.
30. See Rothstein, “Beethoven with and without ‘Kunstgepräng,’” 169 n10.
31. Krebs, Fantasy Pieces.
It is interesting to explore the concept of shadow meter further in relation to

the declamatory schemas introduced in chapter 1. The upbeat-oriented schemas
for tetrameter lines set the final accented syllable and cadence on a notated down-
beat, and Rothstein’s shadow meter thus becomes the primary meter, at least from
the point of view of the poetic lines. Examples include the [2 / 1, 2 / 1] schema in
duple meters and [3 / 1 - 3 /1] schema in triple meters. In fact, upbeat-oriented
schemas may be relatively common for tetrameter lines because they produce
downbeat endings. In comparison, the final accented syllable already lands on the
downbeat in the classic trimeter schema [1, 2, / 1 -], and trimeter lines are rarely set
with upbeat beginnings.
Hensel frequently uses upbeat-oriented schemas. Example 2.7 illustrates this
with an early song, “Die Schwalbe,” setting a poem by Friederike Robert. Hensel
sets the tetrameter lines in 6/8 with the schema [2 / 1, 2 / 1]. One notes especially
the half-measure introduction and the cadential 6/4 and cadence in mm. 6–7,
aligned with the second and fourth poetic feet.32 (“Die Schwalbe” was written in
1823, and it was published anonymously in 1825 in Rheinblüthen, an almanach of
Example 2.7: Hensel, “Die Schwalbe,” mm. 1–7. © Furore Verlag, Naumburger Str.
40, D-34127 Kassel, www.furore-verlag.de, fue 6670 ISMN: 979-0-50012-667-6
Allegretto [2 1 2 1] [2
6
8 !
O Schwälb-lein aus dem war - men Land, wer hat denn
O Schwälb-lein mit der wei - ßen Brust, wer hat denn
O Schwälb-lein mit der Lie - be Blick, zieh’ doch in
6
8 !

6
8 !

1 2 1] [2 1 2 1]

4

dich hier - her - ge - sandt, um - sonst suchst du hier Lie - be!
dich von Lieb und Lust so weit hin - weg - ge - trie - ben?
je - nes Land zu - rück, wo Lie - bes - lust nicht schwin - det.

32. See table 1.4 for further examples of upbeat-oriented schemas in Hensel’s songs.
poetry, novels, and music.33 For more on the publication history of Hensel’s songs,
see chap. 3.)
The combined couplet schema [1, 2 - / 1, 2 -][1, 2, 3 / 1 - -] is an alternative for
tetrameter settings that also enables a downbeat cadence. There is tension in the
first-line setting as the second beat competes with the first for priority; the second-
line setting then resolves this tension. We found this schema in Schubert’s
“Wasserflut” from Winterreise (ex. 1.8), and further examples are cited in the
Winterreise tetrameter schemas table (table 1.3). In comparison, the tension remains
unresolved in the outer sections of Schubert’s “Die Nebensonnen” since the lines of
the couplets are set without change [1, 2 - / 1, 2 -][1, 2 - / 1, 2 -] (see ex. 1.9a). “Die
Nebensonnen” thus illustrates Rothstein’s shadow meter in a 3/4 context.34
We have focused here on four-bar phrases, as a norm in the Lied, and considered
some of the analytical issues that arise in that context. There are, of course, phrases
of other lengths. Two- and eight-bar phrases are not uncommon, and they function
much like the four-bar phrases. Poetic lines may be set in individual measures of
quadruple meter (4/4 or 12/8), and the couplet/musical phrase then spans two mea-
sures; alternatively, poetic lines may be set in four-measure phrase segments, and the
couplet/musical phrase then is eight measures long. (See the discussion of declama-
tory schemas in chap. 1.) Other phrase lengths and irregular phrases also occur,
especially in ballad settings and declamatory styles from circa 1850 on. Irregularities
of phrase rhythm may emerge due to irregularities in the poetic meter, or for musical
and expressive reasons. These are issues to which we shall return in later chapters.
Rothstein’s shadow meter is a particular form of metric conflict. Metric conflicts
more generally include syncopation, hemiolas, and recurring offbeat or weak-beat
accents. They occur at multiple levels of the metric hierarchy and may involve any
combination of words, vocal line, and piano accompaniment (i.e., Nägeli’s speaking,
singing, and playing). They contribute to the expressive effects of songs, the qualities of
motion and degrees of tension, and they provide performative symbols in conjunction
with the poetic texts. In the next three sections I review theories of metric conflict or
“metric dissonance,” as it has come to be known, and provide further tools for analysis.
The Theory of Metric Conflict
We may note at the outset that the term “metric conflict” is a contentious one. Are
the conflicts “metric,” or are they really “rhythmic”?35 Do periodic accents outside
of the metric hierarchy always create a sense of opposition or conflict? Harald
33. Annette Maurer and Annegret Huber, “Fanny Mendelssohn Bartholdys Lied Die Schwalbe als
Musikbeilage des Almanachs Rheinblüthen,” in Fanny Hensel, geb. Mendelssohn Bartholdy: Das
Werk, ed. Martina Helmig (Munich: edition text + kritik, 1997), 51–57.
34. Claudia Maurer Zenck discusses these features of “Die Nebensonnen” with reference to metric the-
ories from the eighteenth century (Koch and Scheibe). See Vom Takt: Untersuchungen zur Theorie
und kompositorischen Praxis im ausgehenden 18. und beginnenden 19. Jahrhundert (Vienna: Böhlau,
2001), 229–32.
35. See Robert S. Hatten, “Review of Harald Krebs, Fantasy Pieces: Metrical Dissonance in the Music of
Robert Schumann,” Music Theory Spectrum 24, no. 2 (2002): 276; and Frank P. Samarotto, “ ‘The Body
Krebs and Richard Cohn have used the term “metric dissonance”; this also sug-
gests instability and tension.36 Are the phenomena under consideration unstable?
Do we expect them to resolve?
A lot depends on context and perspective, but we may offer a few provisional
answers, to be further elaborated below. The phenomena under consideration are
all metric in the simple sense that they involve musical and/or poetic meter. They
are also rhythmic, and this is something to which we shall return. The sense of
opposition or conflict in Lieder is generally not as intense as, say, in a Beethoven
Symphony (e.g., the Eroica). Syncopations, hemiolas, and weak-beat accents in
the Lied typically express inner disturbance or animation, a particular quality of
motion, or they may represent elements in nature—which in turn mirror the
poetic self. Susan Youens has shown that offbeat and weak-beat accents in
Winterreise function as an “index of disquiet, of emotional turmoil.”37 Syncopations
in the piano express longing and a reach outward in Schubert’s “Wandrers
Nachtlied II,” D. 768, Schumann’s “Intermezzo,” Op. 39 No. 1, Brahms’s “Immer
leiser wird mein Schlummer,” Op. 105 No. 2, and other songs.38 Syncopations in
the vocal line, common in songs by Wolf, may signal the emergence of an
independent voice, apart from convention or routine.39 What about the notion of
dissonance and resolution? The norm in this repertoire is that metric conflicts do
resolve, or at least they yield to states of alignment. As I have argued elsewhere, it
is sometimes productive to think of this change as a “release” rather than a
“resolution.”40
There are two basic types of metric dissonance: “displacement” or “syncopation-
type” dissonances and “grouping” or “hemiola-type” dissonances.41 Displacement
dissonances involve non-aligned layers of the same periodicity. Syncopations are
a form of displacement dissonance; the syncopated events are offset from a layer
of the primary or notated meter. Weak-beat and offbeat accents are also forms of
displacement dissonance, as is Rothstein’s shadow meter. Following Krebs, we
may reference displacement dissonances by the periodicity of the layers and the
amount of displacement. Thus, in the expression Dx+y (unit = z), D stands for
displacement, x stands for the periodicity or “cardinality” of the layers, and y
That Beats’: Review of Harald Krebs, Fantasy Pieces: Metrical Dissonance in the Music of Robert
Schumann,” Music Theory Online 6, no. 4 (2000): 3.4.
36. Cohn, “The Dramatization of Hypermetric Conflicts” and “Metric and Hypermetric Dissonance in
the Menuetto of Mozart’s Symphony in G Minor, K. 550”; Krebs, Fantasy Pieces.
37. Susan Youens, Retracing a Winter’s Journey: Schubert’s Winterreise (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press, 1991), 108–10.
38. Yonatan Malin, “Metric Displacement Dissonance and Romantic Longing in the German Lied,”
Music Analysis 25, no. 3 (2006): 61–87.
39. See Malin, “Metric Analysis and the Metaphor of Energy.” See also Harald Krebs, “Text-Expressive
Functions of Metrical Dissonance in the Songs of Hugo Wolf,” Musicologia Austriaca 26 (2007):
125–36.
40. Malin, “Metric Analysis and the Metaphor of Energy,” 65–66.
41. Displacement and grouping dissonance are defined in Krebs, Fantasy Pieces. The terms “syncopa-
tion-type” and “hemiola-type” dissonance are used for the same categories in Richard Cohn,
“Introduction to Meter and Metric Dissonance” (1999).
indicates the amount of displacement.42 Krebs uses the expression Dx+y (unit =
z) to refer to the dissonance formed by two metric layers. I often find it useful to
reference individual displaced layers, and for this purpose I will use the simpli-
fied expression x+y (unit = z). Example 2.8 provides schematic representations
of several displacement dissonances. Example 2.8a shows a typical quarter-note
syncopation. The syncopated pulse may be labeled as 2+1 (unit = e); this indi-
cates that it has a periodicity of two eighths and that it is displaced by one eighth
from the primary quarter. Example 2.8b shows an analogous displacement dis-
sonance formed by dynamic accents. The displaced layers in examples 2.8c and
2.8d occur at the next level up in the metric hierarchy; they may be labeled as
4+2 (unit = e). The choice of the unit is purely practical; I maintain the eighth as
the unit here to emphasize the relationship with examples 2.8a–b. Thus, a given
song may include both 2+1 and 4+2 displacements (unit = e).
Examples 2.8: Displaced Layers; 2+1 (a and b) and 4+2 (c and d); unit = e
throughout
(a)
(b)
(c)
(d)
Examples 2.9 and 2.10 show additional syncopation types in songs by

Schumann. Annotations above the piano part indicate the periodicity of the dis-
placed layer. In “Im wunderschönen Monat Mai” (ex. 2.9), there is a 4-layer (unit
= x) that anticipates the primary quarter by a sixteenth. We can thus label it 4-1
(unit = x). In “Hör᾽ich das Liedchen klingen” (ex. 2.10), the piano’s melodic line
articulates a 4-layer that is delayed by a sixteenth, thus 4+1 (unit = x). We will
return to these songs in chapter 5.
Grouping dissonances involve periodicities that are not the same and are not
multiples or factors of each other. In the Lied, as in the common-practice period
generally, the periodicities are typically in ratios of two to three. Thus, grouping
dissonances include “two-against-three” rhythms at the sub-tactus level (e.g.,
normal vs. triplet eighths) and hemiolas. Examples 2.11a–d illustrate hemiolas in
42. See Krebs, Fantasy Pieces, 35–36.

Example 2.9: “Im wunderschönen Monat Mai,” Op. 48 No. 1, mm. 9–12
9
2
4 " "
sprang - en, da ist in mei - nem Her - zen die
2
4 4

4 " "

2

4
12

Lie - be auf - ge - gan - gen.
4 4 ritard.
"
"

"

Example 2.10: “Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen,” Op. 48 No. 10, mm. 9–12
9
2
4
will mir die Brust zer - sprin - gen von
4 4 4 4
2
4 " " " "

2
4
11

wil - dem Schmer - zen drang. Es
4 4 4
"
" " "

6/8 and 3/4, generated by durational patterning and dynamic accents. The dura-
tions and accent patterns in examples 2.11a–b generate a 2-layer (unit = e), which
works against the 3-layer of the notated meter. We thus label the dissonance G3/2
(unit = e). “G” stands for grouping dissonance, and the two numbers reference the
periodicities of the layers.43 Examples 2.11c–d show the analogous situations in
3/4. A half note or 2-layer (unit = q) works against the 3-layer of the notated bar
lines, and thus we get G3/2 (unit = q). The classic hemiola involves a primary
3-layer and a temporary or “dissonant” 2-layer, as in examples 2.11a–d. It is also
possible to have a “reverse hemiola,” in which the 2-layer is primary and the 3-layer
emerges as a disturbance.44 (An example of a reverse hemiola is given below.)
Finally, notice that the layers in grouping dissonances align periodically. The layers
in examples 2.11a–b align on the notated downbeats, and in examples 2.11c–d
they align on every other downbeat. Moments of alignment generate higher-level
periodicities, or “hemiola cycles.”45
Example 2.11: G3/2 (unit = e) (a and b) and G3/2 (unit = q) (c and d)
(a)
68
(b)
68
(c)
34
(d)
34
There is a hemiola generated by vocal contour in Schubert’s “Ungeduld” (see

chap. 1, ex. 1.15). This is a G3/2 (unit = q) conflict with a hemiola cycle of two
notated measures, and it contributes to a feeling of rushed impatience as noted in
chapter 1. Hemiolas often occur at the end of phrases, and they may extend the
text and music of a four-bar phrase to arrive on the fifth measure, with a hyper-
metric downbeat. Example 2.12 provides the vocal line for a passage from Brahms’s
43. See Krebs, Fantasy Pieces, 31.

44. I take the term “reverse hemiola” from Deborah Adams Rohr, “Brahms’s Metrical Dramas: Rhythm,
Text Expression, and Form in the Solo Lieder” (PhD diss., University of Rochester, Rochester, NY,
1997), 178.
45. Samuel Ng, “The Hemiolic Cycle and Metric Dissonance in the First Movement of Brahms’s Cello
Sonata in F. Major, Op. 99,” Theory and Practice 31 (2006): 65–95.
“Dämmrung senkte sich von oben,” Op. 59 No. 1, with annotations for the hyper-
meter. The poem, by Goethe, is in trochaic tetrameter, and Brahms generally sets
the lines in four-bar spans. Here, “doch zuerst emporgehoben” is set in a four-bar
span with accented syllables on successive downbeats, “holden Lichts der
Abendstern” is then extended with a hemiola to arrive on a hypermetric down-
beat. The hemiola cycle spans two measures, and in fact it reinforces the two-bar
hypermeter. A piano interlude, not given here, overlaps with the cadence of m. 21.
Hemiolas, and grouping dissonances more generally, are especially common in
Brahms’s songs (see chap. 6).
Example 2.12: Brahms, “Dämmrung senkte sich von oben,” Op. 59 No. 1, mm.
13–21
4
13
3
2 2

8
doch zu - erst em - por - ge - ho - ben
4
17 2 2

hol - den Lichts der A - ben - stern.
Krebs distinguishes between “direct” dissonances, occurring between simul-

taneously sounding layers, and “indirect” dissonances, occurring between suc-
cessive layers. Indirect dissonances are interesting from an experiential point of
view because they occur in transitions from one state to another or when one
state replaces another for a short time. Displacement dissonances can also be
direct or indirect. A syncopated rhythm sounding by itself is an indirect disso-
nance. We feel the syncopation against a beat that we maintain, even though no
events coincide with it. Now, if a syncopation or any new “dissonant” layer is
sustained for a time, and if the original layer is not reinforced, then we typically
shift our attention over to the new layer. This is a form of metric modulation, and
it functions like tonal modulation. The new layer becomes primary in our per-
ception, like a new tonic. Krebs uses the term “subliminal dissonance” for such
situations.46 It is as though the dissonance continues, but at a level below our
conscious awareness.
46. See Krebs, Fantasy Pieces, 46–52. In a similar vein, Walter Frisch distinguishes between syncopation,
in which we continue to maintain the original pulse, and “actual metrical displacement,” in which
the new pulse takes over. See Walter Frisch, “The Shifting Bar Line: Metrical Displacement in
Brahms,” in Brahms Studies: Analytical and Historical Perspectives, ed. George S. Bozarth (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1990), 152.
Metric Conflicts: Further Examples and Analytical Issues
Further examples of metric conflicts will illustrate their use in the Lied beyond
what we have seen already and introduce some of the issues that arise in analysis.
Passages from Schubert’s “Der Lindenbaum” will illustrate subtly fluctuating forms
of metric conflict and a displacement dissonance caused by weak-beat accents.
(We considered the first two quatrains of Müller’s poem and its vocal setting in
chap. 1; here we add the piano part.) Brahms’s “Das Mädchen spricht,” Op. 107
No. 3, will then illustrate more pervasive hemiolas and a full metric displacement,
that is, an instance of Krebs’s “subliminal dissonance.”
Example 2.13 provides the piano introduction for Schubert’s “Der Lindenbaum”
with annotations.47 One might notice the triplet sixteenths, first of all. These would
conflict with normal sixteenth notes, but we do not get a series of sixteenths long
enough to create a metric layer. The annotations show something different, a dotted
quarter or 3-layer (unit = e) in mm. 1 and 3, generated by contour. The idea is that
we may hear a “second beat” on the fourth triplet with its skip up to B3/G#4.
Following the top line, we may hear <E-D#-E / G#-F#-E>, and Schubert’s hairpin
markings contribute to this effect. The accented B on the second quarter of m. 2, if
played in time, then disrupts this nascent 3-layer. Parentheses around the 2s indi-
cate that the quarter-note layer is also not clearly established; in fact it is only sug-
gested by the downbeat arrival and accented second (quarter-note) beat. The
3-layer returns in m. 3, and the 2-layer returns in m. 4, becoming fully established
in m. 5. Thus, Schubert hints at both the 3-layer (q.) and the 2-layer (q) in the
beginning of the song and only establishes the notated meter in mm. 4–5. The trip-
lets, moving back and forth with the unpredictable 3-layer, are then like the
branches of the rustling linden. (Youens evokes this blend and elaborates it beau-
tifully by bringing in musical register and levels of awareness: “The wanderer first
hears a rustling sound that arises unbidden to awareness in mm. 1–2, not con-
sciously evoked. . . . When the rustling resumes at a higher plane in m. 3, the wan-
derer is more fully aware of its presence.”48) Methodologically, the point is that we
need to identify metric layers and consider their perceptual salience. We may also
note here that the introduction to “Der Lindenbaum” presents a “reverse hemiola.”
The 2-layer is primary, or at least it emerges over time to become primary, and the
3-layer is a temporary effect.
The second-beat accents in the piano introduction (mm. 2 and 4) are taken up
as recurring events, a form of displacement dissonance, in the third section; see
example 2.14. (The song as a whole is in the form ABA1B1CA2B2 with a piano
introduction, postlude, and interludes; ex. 2.14 provides section A1.) We are sud-
denly in the parallel minor here, and downbeat triplets rise to an accented G, the
lowered third scale degree, on the second beat. Triplets flow through the third
measure of the phrases (mm. 31 and 35) and then rise again to accented pitches on
the second beat in the fourth measure of the phrases (mm. 32 and 36). The accented
47. My observations on “Der Lindenbaum” are informed by a discussion of the song in a 2005 workshop
led by Harald Krebs at the Mannes Institute for Advanced Study in Music Theory.
48. Youens, Retracing a Winter’s Journey, 161.
3 Mässig

4
3 3 (2) (2) (2)
3

4

#
3
4

3

3 3 (2) (2) (2)

"

5

2 2 2

cresc.

second beats generate a displacement within the 3/4 meter, which may be labeled
as 3+1 (unit = q). To be sure, we still hear the downbeats as downbeats. The arch of
the 3/4 measures is inflected, however, by recurring second-beat accents, and this
disturbance conveys the Wanderer’s unease as he passes by the linden in the dark-
ness of night. It is further notable that the piano accents arrive precisely on the
beat that does not carry accented syllables; the declamatory schema is [1 - 3 / 1 - -],
as we observed in chapter 1.
Brahms’s “Das Mädchen spricht” depicts youthful excitement in a volkstümlich
tone, and it includes both hemiolas and metric displacement.49 The poem, by Otto
49. Discussions of “Das Mädchen spricht” by Virginia Hancock and Deborah Rohr anticipate features
of the present analysis. See Hancock, “Johannes Brahms: Volkslied/Kunstlied,” in German Lieder in
the Nineteenth Century, ed. Rufus Hallmark (New York: Schirmer Books, 1996), 132; and Rohr,
“Brahms’s Metrical Dramas,” 280–87.
Friedrich Gruppe, has two stanzas of five lines each, each grouped 3+2 with a
rhyme scheme aab cb.
Schwálbe, ság mir án, Swallow, tell me,

Íst’s dein álter Mánn, Is that your husband of old,
Mit dém du’s Nést gebáut, With whom you’ve built a nest,
Óder hást du jǘngst erst Or were you just recently
Dich íhm vertráut? Betrothed to him?
Ság,’ was zwítschert íhr, Say, what do you twitter,
Ság,’ was flǘstert íhr Say, what do you whisper
Des Mórgens só vertráut? This morning so intimately?
Gélt, du bíst wohl áuch noch You also have not been
Nicht lánge Bráut? A bride for long, have you?
The meter shifts in what seems to be a kind of purposeful awkwardness between

trochaic meter in lines 1–2 and 4 and iambic meter in lines 3 and 5. We may think
of this awkwardness in connection with the poetic persona’s position as a new

bride.
Brahms’s song is given in example 2.15 (web) . Note that the annotations in
this example indicate metric layers, not declamatory schemas. The first few mea-
sures of the piano introduction are metrically fluid. One can hear them in 3/4 but
they do not project the downbeat strongly. The voice and piano do project 3/4
clearly from m. 5, and a two-bar hypermeter soon becomes evident. (The declam-
atory schema happens to be [1 - 3 / 1 - -], as in “Der Lindenbaum.”) The piano and
voice then introduce a hemiola together in mm. 9–10. The singer repeats the third
line in nervous excitement, and the accelerated declamatory rhythm goes with the
hemiola. Annotations indicate a 2-layer (unit = q) working against the primary
3-layer. The singer and piano arrive together in m. 11 on a hypermetric
downbeat.
The typical procedure would be to elide a piano interlude with this hyper-
metric downbeat, as in Brahms’s “Dämmrung senkte sich von oben” (ex. 2.12). In
“Das Mädchen spricht,” however, Brahms begins the piano interlude on beat 2 of
m. 11, shifting abruptly from E major (V) to C major (bIII). The harmonic
change, forte dynamic, and new figuration all create the sense of a new down-
beat, and this is confirmed by subsequent events. Harmonic changes continue to
occur on beat 2, and the figuration rises and falls with the displaced 3-layer (unit
= q). Thus we get an abrupt metric modulation to go along with the tonal mod-
ulation. (Compare this with the second-beat accents of Schubert’s “Der
Lindenbaum,” which do not take on the role of displaced downbeats.) We can
label the new displaced downbeat layer as 3+1 (unit = q). One of the interesting
things here is that we also get a displaced hypermeter. Annotations in the score
show a 6-layer, displaced from the bar line; we can label this as 6+1 (unit = q).
The alternation of C major and F major harmonies and overall fall and rise in the
right hand project this duple hypermeter. The 3+1 and 6+1 layers together form
an entire displaced hierarchy.
The return to the original “tonic” meter is an intricate affair, with different pos-
sible interpretations. Several factors indicate a return to the original downbeat in
m. 16: the singer has a registral accent on the downbeat of m. 16 and then arrives
on a half note on the downbeat of m. 17, the piano then shifts to a chordal texture
on the downbeat of m. 18 and cadences with the singer on the downbeat of m. 19.
There are other things going on, however, and here in particular we need to take
account of the rhythm of the words. The final line of the stanza is clearly iambic:
“dich íhm vertráut.” The words “dich íhm” in m. 16 thus place emphasis on beat 2,
and we may easily hear this as another displaced downbeat. In m. 18 “dich íhm”
once again places emphasis on beat 2, and the piano concurs with its agogic accent.
The declamatory rhythm of the line as a whole, furthermore, suggests a half note
or 2-layer (unit = q), which I have shown in the annotations. Notice that the piano
also projects a 2-layer with alternating secondary functions and tonicized chords.
Thus, from the “dich íhm” of m. 16 to the repetition of “dich íhm” in m. 18 we have
a full hemiola cycle. But whereas the typical hemiola cycle begins and ends on the
downbeat, 1 2 3 / 1 2 3 / 1 (as in the hemiola of mm. 9–11), here the cycle begins
and ends on the second beat, 2 3 / 1 2 3 / 1 2. The 2-layer itself continues through
to the downbeat of m. 19, and from there the tonic meter takes over. A final twist:
the hemiola cycle, which spans from the second beat of m. 16 to the second beat of
m. 18, does not coincide with the displaced hypermeter established in mm. 11–15.
There is a 6 in the annotations at each hypermetric downbeat, on the second beat
of mm. 11, 13, and 15. The hemiola cycle begins one measure later, on the second
beat of m. 16.
All of this leads to the question, what is the status of the notated meter? Is
it arbitrary, a purely notational convenience? Should we simply re-bar the
passage to reflect our metric interpretation? Our assumption will be that the
notated meter is not arbitrary, that it also carries meaning. The notated meter
is the consistent background against which all this metric play takes place.
Listeners who do not have a score will most likely not hear the notated meter,
but performers should not disregard it. For performers, the point is to be aware
of how the metric play interacts with the consistency of the notated meter. One
should not attempt to bring out the notated meter in any particular way in bars
11–15, but by simply being aware of it one may convey the sense of something
“offbeat” or off-kilter. This is what Krebs refers to with his concept of sublim-
inal dissonance. And from this point of view, a good corrective to the exercises
above is to go back and count or conduct the song in its notated meter. The
awkwardness of it is precisely the point; this is the awkwardness of the poem’s
new bride.50
Analogies between pitch and rhythm have proved to be especially cogent for
Brahms’s music. It is not only that one finds rhythmic processes that are analogous
to tonal processes but that the processes frequently go together.51 In “Das Mädchen
Spricht” the abrupt tonal modulation in m. 11 goes together with an abrupt metric
modulation. Then, in the return, there are tonicizations in the pitch domain and
brief hints of an alternative meter, like tonicizations (i.e., the displaced hemiola
cycle) in the rhythmic domain. The tonic key, A major, arrives in m. 19 together
with the “tonic” meter.
Brahms’s song is strophic, but there is one significant change in the accompa-
niment of the second stanza. The left hand in mm. 24–27 rises and falls with the
half-note layer (compare with mm. 5–8). It thus has two full hemiola cycles, while
the singer projects the notated 3/4. This is an example of a direct grouping disso-
nance between the singer and piano, which we have not seen before. It seems to
express something of the swallow’s “twittering” and “whispering” in the lines “Sag,
was zwitschert ihr, sag, was flüstert ihr.” Piano and singer then come together for
the hemiola of mm. 28–30, as in mm. 9–11.
50. For more on the performance of subliminal dissonance, see Krebs, Fantasy Pieces, 180–82; and
David Epstein, “Brahms and the Mechanisms of Motion: The Composition of Performance,” in
Brahms Studies: Analytical and Historical Perspectives, ed. George S. Bozarth (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1990), 204.
51. See David Lewin, “On Harmony and Meter in Brahms’s Opus 76 #8,” 19th-Century Music 4, no. 3
(1981): 261–65; Richard Cohn, “Complex Hemiolas”; Peter Smith, “Brahms and the Shifting Barline;
Metric Displacement and Formal Process in the Trios with Wind Instruments,” Brahms Studies 3
(2001): 191–229; and Scott Murphy, “On Metre in the Rondo of Brahms’s Op. 25,” Music Analysis 26,
no. 3 (2007): 323–53.
Graphing Musical Meters and Complex Hemiolas
In the previous sections, I introduced a method for categorizing and referencing

forms of metric conflict following the work of Harald Krebs. We considered the
basic categories of displacement and grouping dissonances and the differences
between direct, indirect, and subliminal dissonances. We then explored examples
of metric conflict in Schubert’s “Der Lindenbaum” and Brahms’s “Das Mädchen
Spricht.” Here I introduce a method for visualizing metric states and hemiolas,
developed by Richard Cohn.52 As we will see, the method efficiently represents
duple and triple relations at multiple levels. It does so, however, by forgoing the
traditional mapping, “left to right in space = passage of time,” and this may take
some getting used to. The method is effective for hemiola-type dissonances (Krebs’s
grouping dissonances), but not for displacement dissonances. Additions to Cohn’s
method will address the relative salience of different metric states and allow for
more specific analytical applications. After this chapter, I will use the graphing
method only in the analysis of Brahms songs, in chapter 6. The metric complexity
of these songs in particular warrant the separate graphic representations.
Nonetheless, I introduce the method here because it offers a further perspective on
musical meter, a new way to visualize and understand phenomena that we have
been exploring.
Let us begin with the classic hemiola, as in mm. 9–10 of “Das Mädchen spricht”
(ex. 2.15) . The 2-quarter layer temporarily conflicts with the primary 3-quarter
layer (which we may continue to project internally), and the hemiola cycle spans
two measures. We may translate this into notational values and say that there is a
conflict between the primary h. and temporary h layers. Both layers are formed by
groupings of the q beat, and they form the hemiola cycle in a w. span. Example 2.16
illustrates the hemiola with a metric graph. The q beat is in the bottom node, paths
up and to the right and left lead to the conflicting h and h. layers, and these come
together at the top in the w. span. I have indicated the primary layer with solid
lines, the temporary or “dissonant” layer with dotted lines. (This is an innovation
with respect to Cohn’s method.)
Example 2.16: Hemiola in Brahms’s “Das Mädchen Spricht” (mm. 9–10)

w
h. h
52. The method was introduced and developed in Cohn’s “Complex Hemiolas.” For a more recent
application, see Murphy, “On Metre in the Rondo of Brahms’s Op. 25.”
Now, notice that both paths leading up and to the right, from q to h and h. to w.,
represent duple groupings, and both paths leading up and to the left, from q to h.
and h to w., represent triple groupings. The figure thus graphs metric relations in a
consistent manner, and this will be the basis for expanding the graph to further
levels. We can also read the graph from the top down, as successive divisions: fol-
lowing the solid line, the w. span divides by two and then three to form h. and q
layers; following the dotted line, this same w. span divides by three and then two to
form the h and q layers. Cohn reads the graphs from the top down, and he uses the
heuristic of paths down a “ski-hill” to identify various metric states.
The key here is that each node represents an entire metric layer, not a single
durational value, and each path represents a relation between metric layers, either
duple or triple. Thus, to translate the graph into the audio/kinesthetic domain of
musical meter, we need to hear and perform the pulse layers through time.
Something is lost and something is gained: we lose the immediacy and familiarity
of the space = time mapping (as in Western musical notation), but we gain a con-
sistent and clear visual representation for metric states and relations.53
Example 2.17 provides a metric graph for the “reverse hemiola” in the piano
introduction to Schubert’s “Der Lindenbaum” (see ex. 2.13). To review, the classic
hemiola involves a temporary 2-layer (= duple grouping) that conflicts with a pri-
mary 3-layer (= triple grouping), and thus the solid line is on the left side of the
graph, as in example 2.16. The reverse hemiola involves a temporary 3-layer (= tri-
ple grouping) that conflicts with the primary 2-layer (= duple grouping), and thus
the solid line is on the right side of the graph, as in example 2.17. The layers them-
selves are also different in example 2.17; here we have a conflict between q and q.
layers, both formed by groupings of the e and joining together in the h. span.
Example 2.17: Reverse Hemiola in Schubert's “Der Lindenbaum” (introduction)
h.
q. q
What about extending these graphs? We may recall that there are triplet
sixteenths in the introduction to “Der Lindenbaum” (ex. 2.13), and, looking back
53. In his article “The Hemiola Cycle and Metric Dissonance in the First Movement of Brahms’s Cello
Sonata in F. Major, Op. 99,” Samuel Ng references hemiola cycles with beat numbers, in the given
meter. Thus, <1–3–2–1> represents the classic hemiola in a triple meter. This method lives more
“within” the hemiola, from moment to moment, and it is similar to the notation used above in the
analysis of “Das Mädchen spricht” (<1 2 3 / 1 2 3 / 1> for the classic hemiola cycle and <2 3 / 1 2
3 / 1 2> for the displaced cycle).
at the A1 strophe, we may notice the juxtaposition of triplet eighths in the piano with
normal eighths in the voice. Example 2.18 adds these layers; we see 3e (triplet eighth)
down and to the right from q, and 3x (triplet sixteenth) down and to the right
from e. One could connect the 3e and 3x with a line going down and to the left.
I have not done so here because the two do not coexist in the same musical space in
“Der Lindenbaum,” that is, the 3x’s are never grouped in twos to form 3e’s, nor are
they heard together with 3e’s. Here again, I form the graphs in particular ways to
illustrate the passage at hand. (Cohn’s graphs are more generalized; the particulars
emerge in the prose analysis.) Whether or not one designates the 3e and 3x pulses
as “primary” features of the metric hierarchy in “Der Lindenbaum” is a matter of
judgment and perspective. I have given them here with solid pathways because they
both recur over a significant span in the song.
Example 2.18: Expanded Graph for “Der Lindenbaum”
h.
q. q
e 3e
3x
The graphs can be extended upward as well to indicate hypermetric layers, and
we shall do so in chapter 6. The important thing to keep in mind, from a practical
point of view, is that paths going up and to the right represent duple relations, and
paths going up and to the left represent triple relations. The graph for a pure duple
meter, say 2/4 with two- and four-bar hypermeasures, may extend up and to the
right in a straight line from a x pulse to a b span. The graph for a pure triple meter,
say 9/8 with three-bar hypermeasures (which is rare), may extend in a straight line
up and to the left, from the e pulse to the three-bar span.
Meter and Rhythm
At the outset of this chapter, we observed that Western notation treats meter and
rhythm as different things. Meter is conceived as a consistent temporal frame, indi-
cated by the time signature and beaming, and rhythm as the changing pattern of
durations. We then redefined meter experientially, as an interlocking set of period-
icities generated by recurring accents and parallel structures. This led us into the
study of hypermeter, metric entrainment, and metric dissonance. Early on, we also
observed that rhythm and meter are interdependent. We entrain metrically in
response to rhythmic patterning, and we interpret rhythms in relation to an
established meter. The question remains, though, how we distinguish in practice
between rhythm and meter. Should the second-beat accents in “Der Lindenbaum”
be considered a rhythmic rather than metric phenomenon? Following Krebs, we
have referred to them as a “metric layer,” but we hear them, I believe, as second-
beat accents in a stable meter. The reverse hemiola in the piano introduction also
does not establish a stable metric frame. Should it not be considered a rhythmic
phenomenon?54
To resolve this issue, we need to move beyond the dot-diagram image of meter.
To introduce metric theory, I formed dot-diagrams, and we imagined each metric
layer as a series of equidistant dots on a timeline (exs. 2.2 and 2.4). I then replaced
the dots with numbers in score annotations, but the basic principle remained the
same. Here we need to realize that each dot or number is significant not as a point
in time but as the end of one duration and beginning of another. In other words,
meter happens not only on the beats, but also in between, as one moves away from
one beat and toward the next. Each metric layer is like a wave, shaped by the tones
that form it.55 The second-beat accents in “Der Lindenbaum” are like perturbations
of the wave, as I suggested in chapter 1. And since they contribute to the wave
formation—to our experience of motion from one downbeat to the next—we may
say that they are “metric.”56 We thus expand our concept of meter to include ele-
ments that are typically considered features of “rhythm.”57 Meter is no longer a
uniform grid; rather, it is an infinitely variable structuring of periodic motion. It is
in fact what people commonly refer to as “rhythm,” apart from Western notation
and pedagogy. It is the groove.
This does not mean that we need to collapse the concepts of rhythm and meter
entirely into one. There are forms of music with durational patterning (rhythm)
but no hierarchy of regular periodicities (meter).58 Recitative, for instance, moves
with speech-like rhythms, but it is not metric in the usual sense. There are passages
of recitative in songs, as for instance in Schubert’s “Wandrers Nachtlied I,” D. 224,
at “ach, ich bin des Treibens müde”; in the famous ending of Schubert’s “Erlkönig,”
D. 328; and in Hensel’s “Nachtwanderer,” Op. 7 No. 1, at “irrst die Gedanken mir . . .”
By maintaining rhythm and meter as separate concepts, we also are able to discuss
the interaction between our entrainment behaviors and the temporal patterning.59
We are able to talk about the interdependence of rhythm and meter. Victor
54. See Hatten, “Review of Harald Krebs, Fantasy Pieces: Metrical Dissonance in the Music of Robert
Schumann,” 276; and Samarotto, “ ‘The Body That Beats,’” 3.4.
55. Victor Zuckerkandl, Sound and Symbol: Music and the External World, trans. Willard R. Trask (New
York: Pantheon Books, 1956), 171.
56. Krebs defines meter as the union of all layers of motion, not only those that align. See Krebs, Fantasy
Pieces, 23.
57. This approach has some affinities with Christopher Hasty’s theory, in Meter as Rhythm.
58. See Martin R. L. Clayton, “Free Rhythm: Ethnomusicology and the Study of Music without Metre,”
Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 59, no. 2 (1996): 323–32.
59. See London, Hearing in Time, 58.
Zuckerkandl, from whom I have borrowed the concept of the metric wave,
describes this evocatively. He writes, “The tones fall upon the wave that they them-
selves have generated; the wave imparts its motion to the tones.”60
The concept of the metric wave is a heuristic device, a form of cross-domain
mapping that reminds us of the sense of duration and motion from one beat to
the next. It is like the motion of the conductor’s hand or the dancer’s body. With
the common terms “downbeat” and “upbeat,” we may think of the wave in
gravitational terms, and indeed, the notion of metric “weight” is common.61 It is
important to remember, however, that a “downbeat” is also a point of initiation,
and it has the “energy of beginning,” as Moritz Hauptmann put it in the nineteenth
century.62 Music psychologists have used the idea of wavelike oscillations to
model metric entrainment. In this context, the beat at any given level is the peak
of expectancy.63 Oscillations at multiple levels reinforce each other, generating
strong and weak beats.
Repeating figuration depicts actual waves in countless songs from the
nineteenth century. “Danksagung an den Bach” and “Des Baches Wiegenlied” are
two well-known examples from Schubert’s Die Schöne Müllerin. Hensel’s
“Gondellied,” Op. 1 No. 6, is another example, and from Brahms we have “Auf dem
See,” Op. 59 No. 2 (poem by Carl Simrock), and “Auf dem See,” Op. 106 No. 2 (poem
by Christian Reinhold). Rhythmic figuration, however, represents many forms of
motion in the genre of the Lied. As we proceed, we will carry forth with us a meth-
odology for attending to multiple layers of motion, through the duration of each
poem and its musical setting.
60. Zuckerkandl, Sound and Symbol, 171.

61. Robert S. Hatten, Interpreting Musical Gestures, Topics, and Tropes: Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert
(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004), 115.
62. Moritz Hauptmann, Die Natur der Harmonik und der Metrik (Leipzig: Breitkopf and Härtel, 1873),
228. See also Malin, “Metric Analysis and the Metaphor of Energy.”
63. London, Hearing in Time, 21–23.
PART II
Songs in Motion
CHAPTER Three
Hensel: Lyrical Expansions, Elisions,
and Rhythmic Flow
Fanny Hensel (née Mendelssohn Bartholdy) wrote songs from 1819, when she was
fourteen years old, to the end of her life in 1847. There are 249 extant songs for solo
voice and piano, which vary from simple strophic settings to through-composed
songs with complex piano parts and rich chromaticism, foreshadowing the musical
language of the latter nineteenth century.1 Indeed, Hensel’s Lieder can be heard as
a bridge, linking the Volkstümlichkeit of the so-called Berlin School with more
experimental strains of the mid-century. They are worthy of study and performance
not only for their variety, however, but also for their quality, which was recognized
early on by some and is now beginning to be rediscovered and celebrated.2
Hensel’s songs move with the lyrical flow of vocal melody, supported by a
variety of textures in the piano accompaniments. She frequently uses 6/8 and other
compound meters. She often begins vocal phrases mid-bar and arrives with
cadences on the downbeat. She uses melismas and expansions of declamatory
rhythm at the ends of sections and songs. These allow for a vocal lyricism, a
1. Marcia J. Citron, “The Lieder of Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel,” Musical Quarterly 69, no. 4 (1983):
570–94; Annette Maurer, Thematisches Verzeichnis der klavierbegleiteten Sololieder Fanny Hensels
(Kassel: Furore-Verlag, 1997).
2. In addition to Citron’s pioneering study (cited above in note 1), see the essays in Martina Helmig, ed.,
Fanny Hensel, geb. Mendelssohn Bartholdy: Das Werk (Munich: edition text + kritik, 1997). These
include Annette Maurer, “Biographische Einflüsse auf das Liedschaffen Fanny Hensels” (33–41),
Diether de la Motte, “Einfall als Bereicherung der Musiksprache in Liedern von Fanny Hensel” (58–67),
and Gisela A. Müller, “‘Leichen-’ oder ‘Blüthenduft’? Heine-Vertonungen Fanny Hensels und Felix
Mendelssohn Bartholdys im Vergleich” (42–50). See also Briony Williams, “Biography and Symbol:
Uncovering the Structure of a Creative Life in Fanny Hensel’s Lieder,” Nineteenth-Century Music Review
4, no. 2 (2007): 49–66. There are brief but valuable overviews of Hensel’s songs in James Deaville, “A
Multitude of Voices: The Lied at Mid-Century,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Lied, ed. James
Parsons (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 151–53; and Jürgen Thym, “Crosscurrents in
Song: Five Distinctive Voices,” in German Lieder in the Nineteenth Century, ed. Rufus Hallmark (New
York: Schirmer, 1996), 161–66. Marcia Citron reviews the scholarship on Hensel in “A Bicentennial
Reflection: Twenty-five Years with Fanny Hensel,” Nineteenth-Century Music Review 4, no. 2 (2007):
7–20. Published editions of Hensel’s songs are cited in note 10 of this chapter.
69
70 PART II Songs in Motion
flowering of pure song that has no need for direct justification in the poem, though
it may in fact link with aspects of the poem. It will only be with Brahms, from 1850
on, that we will find a similar lyricism for the sake of lyricism, song for the sake of
song. Indeed, this is a feature of Brahms’s practice that the Wagnerian partisans
attacked with Hugo Wolf as their apostle, crying foul over the fate of poetic rhythms
in the hand of the composer. We only need to listen with sympathetic ears or sing
with sympathetic voices, however, to discover the pleasures of song in Hensel or
Brahms. And we only need to listen more deeply to discover that structural con-
nections do exist between the poems and composed songs.
Excerpts from Hensel’s songs were given in chapters 1–2 to illustrate the metric
hierarchy, phrase elision, lyrical expansion, and upbeat-oriented declamatory
schemas. Here we situate these phenomena in the full context of each song, with
attention to poetic rhythms and modes of expression as well as vocal melody and
piano accompaniment. We will find that Hensel calibrates rhythmic flow in subtle
ways through the course of individual songs. Even where there are regular two-
and four-bar phrases, rhythms vary within the phrases and elisions create conti-
nuity. More complex settings, especially from the later years, vary the phrase
rhythm in response to poetic structure, meaning, or a combination of the two.
As a child, Fanny Mendelssohn received musical training equivalent to that of
her brother Felix, and she showed equally precocious talent. (Both studied with
Carl Friedrich Zelter, among others; Zelter was the director of the famous Berlin
Singakademie, a musical confidant of Goethe’s, and a prime advocate for the simple
volkstümlich style of Lied composition.) Fanny’s father, Abraham Mendelssohn,
however, indicated that it would not be appropriate for her to pursue music profes-
sionally, regardless of her talent. In a now-famous letter, sent to her in the summer
of 1820 when she was fourteen years old, he wrote: “Music will perhaps become his
[Felix’s] profession, whilst for you it can and must only be an ornament, never the
root of your being and doing” (italics as in Sebastian Hensel’s biography).3 Fanny
remained active as a composer and performer after marrying the court painter
Wilhelm Hensel in 1829 and starting a family, but only within the home and semi-
public setting of the Mendelssohn Sunday musicales (Sonntagsmusik).4 It was in
fact in these musicales, which Abraham Mendelssohn started in 1823 and Fanny
then reinstated and presided over in the 1830s and ’40s, that many of her songs
3. Sebastian Hensel, The Mendelssohn Family (1729–1847) from Letters and Journals, trans. Carl
Klingemann, 2nd revised ed. (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1881), 1:82, quoted in Williams,
“Biography and Symbol,” 54. There is similar advice, expressed even more forcefully, in a letter from
1828: “You must become more steady and collected, and prepare more earnestly and eagerly for your
real calling, the only calling of a young woman—I mean the state of a housewife.” Hensel, The
Mendelssohn Family, 1:84, quoted in Citron, “The Lieder of Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel,” 571.
4. The social strictures had to do with class as well as gender. Women from the artist-musician class
frequently became professional musicians; Clara Schumann is the most famous example. See Nancy
B. Reich, “Women as Musicians: A Question of Class,” in Music and Difference: Gender and Sexuality
in Music Scholarship, ed. Ruth Solie (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 125–46. For
another perspective on this issue see Harald Krebs, “The ‘Power of Class’ in a New Perspective:
A Comparison of the Compositional Careers of Fanny Hensel and Josephine Lang,” Nineteenth-
Century Music Review 4, no. 2 (2007): 37–48.
CHAPTER 3 Hensel: Lyrical Expansions, Elisions, and Rhythmic Flow 71
were performed.5 The Sunday musicales at Leipziger Straße No. 3 became quite
glamorous and popular under Fanny’s direction; this was not merely a group of
family and friends. Fanny wrote to her sister after a particularly brilliant musicale,
“If I tell you there were twenty-two carriages with their horses in the courtyard,
and that Liszt and eight princesses were present in the room, you’ll excuse me from
giving a more detailed description of such splendor.”6
But whereas her mother and husband were in favor of her publishing her com-
positions, her brother Felix was opposed. Felix wrote to their mother in 1837 (after
Abraham’s death):
I cannot persuade her to publish anything, because it is against my views and con-
victions. We have previously spoken a great deal about it, and I still hold the same
opinion. I consider publishing something serious (it should at least be that) and
believe that one should do it only if one wants to appear as an author one’s entire
life and stick to it. But that necessitates a series of works, one after the other. . . . Fanny,
as I know her, possesses neither the inclination nor calling for authorship. She is
too much a woman, as is proper, for that, and looks after her house and thinks nei-
ther about the public nor the musical world, nor even about music, unless that
primary occupation is accomplished. Publishing would only disturb her in these
duties, and I cannot reconcile myself to it.7
Fanny knew of her brother’s views, valued his opinion, and did not publish song
collections under her own name for many years. (“Die Schwalbe” was published
anonymously in an almanac in 1825, six of her songs appeared under Felix’s name
in 1826–27 and 1830, and two songs appeared under her name in anthologies in
1837 and 1839.)8 Nonetheless, she missed the kind of response that one would get
from putting works forth publicly. She wrote to a friend in 1836, “If nobody ever
offers an opinion, or takes the slightest interest in one’s productions, one loses in
time not only all pleasure in them, but all power of judging their value.”9
5. For more on the Sunday musicales and the salon tradition of which they were a part, see Beatrix
Borchard, “‘Mein Singen ist ein Rufen nur aus Träumen’: Berlin, Leipziger Straße Nr. 3,” in Fanny
Hensel, geb. Mendelssohn Bartholdy: Das Werk, ed. Martina Helmig (Munich: edition text + kritik,
1997), 9–21; Beatrix Borchard and Cornelia Bartsch, “Leipziger Straße Drei: Sites for Music,”
Nineteenth-Century Music Review 4, no. 2 (2007): 119–38; Françoise Tillard, Fanny Mendelssohn,
trans. Camille Naish (Portland, OR: Amadeus, 1996).
6. Quoted in Tillard, Fanny Mendelssohn, 311–12.
7. Quoted in Citron, “The Lieder of Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel,” 572.
8. Citron, “The Lieder of Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel,” 574. The Mendelssohn family did not keep
Fanny’s authorship secret. An Edinbugh correspondent who had visited the Mendelssohns wrote in
The Harmonicon, in 1830, “Three of the best [of 12 published songs by Mendelssohn, Op. 8, written
at the age of fifteen] are by his sister, a young lady of great talents and accomplishments. . . . Her songs
are distinguished by tenderness, warmth, and originality; some of which I heard were exquisite.” See
Jack Werner, “Felix and Fanny Mendelssohn,” Music and Letters 28, no. 4 (1947): 327. See also Felix’s
account of his visit with Queen Victoria, in which he confessed to the queen that one of her favorite
songs, “Italien,” was by Fanny, not himself. The account is reproduced in Werner, “Felix and Fanny
Mendelssohn,” 332.
9. Werner, “Felix and Fanny Mendelssohn,” 333, quoted in Citron, “The Lieder of Fanny Mendelssohn
Hensel,” 571n5.
Table 3.1: Poetic and Musical Meters in Hensel’s Songs Op. 1 Nos. 1–6 and
Op. 7 No. 1
Op/No; Song (Poet) Poetic Meter Time Signature, Tempo Key
1/1; Schwanenlied (Heine) Iambic trimeter 6/8, Andante G minor

1/2; Wanderlied (Goethe) Trochaic tetrameter 4/8, Allegro molto vivace D major
1/3; Warum sind denn die Iambic tetrameter/ 6/8, Andante A minor
Rosen so blass (Heine) trimeter
1/4; Maienlied (Eichendorff ) Trochaic tetrameter 3/4, Allegretto G major
1/5; Morgenständchen Trochaic tetrameter 4/4, Allegro molto quasi E major
(Eichendorff ) presto
1/6; Gondellied (Geibel) Iambic tetrameter/ 6/8, Allegretto A major
trimeter
7/1; Nachtwanderer Iambic tetrameter/ 9/8, Andante con moto D minor
(Eichendorff ) trimeter
In 1846 and 1847 she published her Lieder Opp. 1 and 7, with six songs in each.
The Opp. 9 and 10 collections appeared in 1850, after her death. The great majority
of her songs remained unpublished in the nineteenth century, as they still are
today.10
We shall use the six songs of Op. 1 and the first song of Op. 7 as a source for
detailed and comparative study. These seven songs progress in time from circa
1835 to the early 1840s, and from relatively simple forms and phrase rhythms to
greater complexity and range of expressive resources. They are settings of poems
by the major poets of the genre: Heine, Goethe, and Eichendorff, as well as a
poem by Emanuel Geibel. Table 3.1 shows that Hensel arranged the Op. 1 songs
with attention to the variety and sequence of time signatures and tempi, as well
as keys. She intersperses an energetic major-mode song in 4/8 (No. 2) between
two slower minor-mode songs in 6/8 (Nos. 1 and 3). The fourth song is the only
one in a triple meter, and the fifth introduces a broad 4/4. The sixth returns to
6/8, like Nos. 1 and 3, but now in a slightly faster tempo and major key. The songs
generally progress clockwise on the circle of fifths, with the ecstatic song
“Morgenständchen” (No. 5) as the furthest in the sharp direction and a settling
down by fifth for the lyrical “Gondellied” (No. 6). Hensel’s trip to Italy in 1840,
struggles with publication, and relationship with her sister will provide bio-
graphical contexts, relevant to the interpretation of the latter songs in Op. 1 and
the first song from Op. 7.
10. Bote and Bock reissued her songs Opp. 1 and 7 in 1985. Breitkopf and Härtel published critical
editions of selected songs in two volumes in 1993–94; these include selections from Opp. 1, 7, 9, 10
and additional settings of poems by Goethe, Heine, Eichendorff, and others. Furore has published
further critical editions beginning in 2001: songs on poems by Byron and Müller, early French
songs, and two volumes of songs that had been unpublished or published without attribution to
Hensel.
“Schwanenlied” (Heine): Rhythmic Flow in a Traditional Form
“Schwanenlied” (Song of the Swan), the Heine setting that Hensel chose for the
first song of her Op. 1 collection, illustrates the subtle calibration of rhythmic flow
in a traditional ABAB setting. There is a beautiful lyric expansion at the ends of the
B sections, an elision with the piano interlude and postlude, and subtle shapings of
rhythm within the two- and four-bar phrases. Hensel most likely wrote the song in
the period from 1835 to 1838.11
The poem is in a traditional form: four quatrains of iambic trimeter with abab
rhyme schemes and alternating unaccented and accented line endings.
Es fällt ein Stern herunter A star is falling down

Aus seiner funkelnden Höh’; From its sparkling height;
Das ist der Stern der Liebe, It is the star of love,
Den ich dort fallen seh.’ Which I see falling there.
Es fallen vom Apfelbaume From the apple tree fall
Der weissen Blätter viel; Many blossoms and leaves;
Es kommen die neckenden Lüfte, The teasing breezes come,
Und treiben damit ihr Spiel. And frolic with them.
Es singt der Schwan im Weiher, The swan sings on the pond,
Und rudert auf und ab, And glides to and fro,
Und immer leiser singend, And singing ever more softly,
Taucht er in’s Flutengrab. He plunges into the watery grave.
Es ist so still und so dunkel! It is so quiet and dark!
Verweht ist Blatt und Blüt,’ Scattered are the leaves and blossoms,
Der Stern ist knisternd zerstoben, The star has fizzled and vanished,
Verklungen das Schwanenlied.12 The song of the swan has faded away.13
Stanzas 1–3 narrate the fall of a star (the star of love) and of apple blossoms, and the
plunge of a singing swan to its grave. Stanza 4 brings the poem to its conclusion with
a single-line lament, “Es ist so still und dunkel!” (It is so quiet and dark!) and repeat
references to the dispersed blossoms, fallen star, and song of the swan which has
finally faded away. The images and form are conventional, but Heine uses them in a
remarkably concise way to convey an experience of complete loss: the loss of love
and meaning, light and song. Hensel’s setting laments this loss of song in song.
Example 3.1 (web) provides a score for the first two strophes (initial A and B
sections in the ABAB form). The basic rhythm of the setting is conventional: poetic
lines are set in a two-bar phrase segment with the [1, 2 / 1 -] schema, couplets are set
11. Maurer, Thematisches Verzeichnis, 144–45.

12. Heinrich Heine, Säkularausgabe: Werke—Briefwechsel—Lebenszeugnisse, Vol. 1: Gedichte 1812–1827,
ed. Hans Böhm (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag and Paris: Editions du CNRS, 1979), 87–88. I have
included variants that correspond most closely with the song text from early editions of Heine’s
Buch der Lieder; see Heine, Säkularausgabe, Vol. 1.K: Gedichte 1812–1827, Kommentar, 277–78.
13. The translation includes features from a translation by Bettina Reinke-Welsch in the liner notes to
Susan Gritton and Eugene Asti, Fanny Mendelssohn Lieder, Hyperion CDA67110.
in four-bar phrases, and the first and third quatrains in eight-bar strophes. In chapter
2 I observed the clear metric hierarchy conveyed by the piano and voice, including a
two-bar hypermetric level and the potential for a four-bar hypermeter. Hensel repeats
the final couplet in the second strophe (mm. 18–24) and expands the final line, “und
treiben damit ihr Spiel” with a broad melisma (mm. 20–24). “Spiel” arrives in m. 24 on
a hypermetric downbeat, and the piano interlude picks up directly from there with an
elision. (Numeral 2s show the downbeats of the two-bar hypermeter for the latter part
of this strophe, from m. 18 on.) The interlude sustains the arpeggiated motion and
then dissipates it with a hemiola and pause (mm. 26–27). This interlude marks out the
two main sections of the song, and it returns at the end as a postlude.
The phrase expansion occurs principally with a single syllable, a long melisma on
“trei-(ben).” The voice hovers around D5, reaching up to it each time on the second
beat and sustaining it over the bar line. In other words, the singer playfully avoids
downbeat articulations, just as she avoids descending to the tonic. The piano mean-
while prolongs the dominant harmony. The accompaniment could move directly
from the dominant of m. 20 to the tonic of m. 24; instead, it prolongs the dominant
through mm. 21–23. Here the conventional technique of phrase expansion becomes
meaningful not only as a form of rhetorical emphasis, but also as text painting. The
singer, hovering with syncopations around D5, is like the teasing breeze. We may
imagine a music-text blend: the singer-as-breeze keeps the D5 apple blossoms aloft,
swaying this way and that until they finally descend to the tonic-ground.14 There is
no similar text painting when the same melisma comes back in the final strophe,
setting “verklungen das Schwanenlied” (the song of the swan has faded away). This
rather is where Hensel laments the loss of song most intensely in song. (A score for
the final strophe is not given here; it parallels that of the second strophe exactly.)
A further comparison of phrase rhythm in the A and B strophes illustrates the
variability that is possible within regular four-bar phrasing. The two-bar phrase
segments in the A section link together without repetition. Measures 4–5 invert
the contour of mm. 2–3, and the downbeat beginning of “aus seiner” in m. 4 con-
trasts with the upbeat beginning of “Es fällt ein Stern” in m. 2. (The setting of “aus
seiner” substitutes a trochee for the iamb at the beginning of the line; the same
thing occurs with “den ich dort” in m. 8.) Bass motion <G-F-Eb> in the accompa-
niment (mm. 3–4) meanwhile links the first phrase segment to the next. In con-
trast with this, phrase segments in the B strophe accrue with varied repetition; see
“Es fallen vom Apfel . . .” and “der weissen Blätter . . .” in mm. 10 and 12, “Es kom-
men die neckenden . . .” and “und treiben damit ihr . . .” in mm. 14 and 16. The
varied repetition in two-bar segments marks this level of the metric hierarchy in a
new way; it is a subtle contrast that produces a more compressed kind of motion.
Measure 14 brings us back to tonic harmony after the excursion of the first
strophe (perfect authentic cadence in D in m. 9), and it brings us back to a version
of the opening melody. This is a purely musical element of the form, without direct
links to poetic meaning or structure. What is further of interest here, however, is
14. Theories of conceptual blending describe how meanings from two independent domains, such as
text and music, may combine. See Lawrence M. Zbikowski, Conceptualizing Music: Cognitive
Structure, Theory, and Analysis (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 77–95.
that the piano introduces repetition in single-bar segments, alternating 5/3 and
6/4/3 harmonies over a G pedal (mm. 14–16). Repetition at the single-bar level
once again articulates the metric hierarchy in a new way, and it combines with the
singer’s varied repetition of two-bar phrase segments. These relatively static repe-
titions, in the first forte passage of the song, release into the expansive climax of “es
kommen die neckenden Lüfte.” The vocal line arpeggiates up its G5 high point on
“Lüfte”; meanwhile the bass extends down to its lowest pitch, C2. (The bass moves
down stepwise with octave displacements from the G of m. 15 to the C of m. 19.)
To reiterate, the rhythms just discussed are musical rhythms that correlate with
large-scale form and voice leading, but not directly with poetic structure or meaning.
The rhetorical emphasis on “Lüfte” is incidental, we might say, a byproduct of the
fact that the word “Lüfte” ends the third line of the second strophe. The second time
around this climax will arrive, again incidentally, on “zerstoben” (stanza 4, line 3).
We are dealing with a “polyrhythm,” as Nägeli would say, which combines
independent musical and poetic groupings. But while the particular word emphasis
is incidental, the song as a whole is highly effective. Hensel does vary one moment
in the second A section, in response to the poem. Example 3.2 (web) shows the
setting of the second couplet in stanza 3, which relates the swan’s death: “und immer
leiser singend, taucht er ins Flutengrab” (And singing ever more softly, he plunges to
the watery grave). The piano and singer mark this moment with an extended upward
arpeggio and fermata; here the picardy third clearly signifies release in death. The
temporary suspension of metrical time also creates a separate musical space for the
final stanza, with its references back to the three earlier stanzas.
There are two kinds of expansion that can affect the amount of time a given
poetic line receives in musical settings: text repetition and augmentation of
declamatory rhythm. In Hensel’s songs, the two forms of expansion are often
combined: repeated lines are sung in augmented declamatory rhythms. Such
expansions tend to take place at the ends of strophes and especially at the ends of
larger sections or entire songs; they give rhetorical weight to the concluding
cadence and text. In “Schwanenlied,” Hensel repeats a couplet at the end of the
B sections (text repetition) and augments the declamatory rhythm for the final
repeated line. Thus, whereas the first strophe (A) sets the first quatrains in eight
measures (after the introduction of m. 1), the second strophe (B) sets the second
quatrain in fifteen measures.15 Four of the additional measures can be accounted
for by text repetition, three by expansion of declamatory rhythm.
“Wanderlied” (Goethe): Text Repetition and

Declamatory Augmentation
“Wanderlied” (Song of Wandering), the second song from Hensel’s Op. 1 collec-
tion, combines these forms of expansion in a similar way, but in this case the
expansions are calibrated to mark multiple levels of poetic and musical form.
15. See Thym, “Crosscurrents in Song,” 165.

“Wanderlied” is an exuberant setting of an exuberant poem, by Goethe. Hensel

wrote her song in 1837.
The poem has three eight-line stanzas with implicit quatrain divisions. Hensel
sets the first and last stanzas in a strict ABAB form. Each song section sets a qua-
train, each AB pair sets an eight-line stanza. Here is the first stanza with Hensel’s
text repetitions in italics:
Von dem Berge zu den Hügeln, From the mountain to the hills,
Niederab das Tal entlang, Down along the valley,
Da erklingt es wie von Flügeln, There it sounds as if on wings,
Da bewegt sichs wie Gesang; There it moves like song;
Da bewegt sichs wie Gesang! (3/4)
Und dem unbedingten Triebe And the desperate urge
Folget Freude, folget Rat; Follows joy, follows advice;
Und dein Streben sei’s in Liebe, And let your striving be in love,
Und dein Leben sei die Tat.16 And let your life be the deed.
Und dein Streben sei’s in Liebe!
Und dein Leben dein Leben sei die Tat. (5/8)
Numbers after the repeated lines in the text above indicate the number of mea-
sures given to the expanded lines, first without and then with the piano interludes.
Thus, the repeated line at the end of the first quatrain is set in three measures, four
with the piano interlude (ex. 3.3 (web), mm. 11–14 ). The last repeated line in
the second quatrain is set in five measures, eight with the piano interlude (ex.
3.3(web), mm. 26–33). Note that there is also text repetition within this final
repeated line: “Und dein Leben dein Leben sei die Tat.”
The augmentation of declamatory rhythm is almost entirely proportional.
Notice, first of all, that most of the lines are set in two-bar spans, with the trimeter
schema [1, 2 / 1 -]. Hensel sets the initial relatively unaccented poetic feet of the
tetrameter lines with sixteenth pickups; these then become eighth notes, and
accented syllables are set on successive downbeats in the repetition of “da bewegt
sichs wie Gesang” (mm. 11–13). The only thing that is not proportional in this aug-
mentation is the setting of unaccented syllables: “sichs” arrives on the final eighth
of m. 11 and “Ge-(sang)” on the final sixteenth of m. 12. The line may be heard to
take up four measures with the piano interlude, as we noted above. The silent
downbeat of m. 14 corresponds in this regard with the silent second beat of mm. 4,
6, and 8. The declamatory expansion provides rhetorical emphasis for the repeated
line and structural cadence in A major (V).
Hensel matches the twofold augmentation of “da bewegt sichs wie Gesang” at
the end of the first quatrain with a fourfold expansion of “und dein Leben sei die
Tat” at the end of the eight-line stanza (mm. 26–33). She sets the first part of the
line, “und dein Leben,” in a two-measure span with augmentation of declamatory
rhythm (x2) and repetition (x2). The latter part, “sei die Tat,” receives an
16. Johann Wolfgang Goethe, Sämtliche Werke nach Epochen seines Schaffens, Münchner Ausgabe, vol.
13.1, Die Jahre 1820–1826, ed. Gisela Henckmann and Irmela Schneider (Munich: Carl Hanser
Verlag, 1992), 143.
augmentation (x4). Thus, each poetic foot is set in two bars (= a whole note) in
place of the normal quarter. Together with the piano interlude of mm. 30–33, the
line takes eight measures in place of the normal two. This provides even greater
rhetorical emphasis for the last poetic line and structural cadence in D (I).
There is one more expansion that separates formal units in the song; it occurs
in mm. 18–19, within the B section. In this case it involves neither text repetition
nor augmentation of declamatory rhythm, but rather an extra measure of piano
figuration between couplets. Hensel uses this extra measure to separate out the
final couplet of the eight-line strophe with its directive “Und dein Streben sei’s in
Liebe, Und dein Leben sei die Tat” (And let your striving be in love, And let your
life be the deed). (There is no corresponding textual logic to the break in the setting
of the final stanza.)
The extra measure effects a temporary suspension of hypermetric flow. The
song proceeds with hypermetric downbeats on odd-numbered measures up to
this point; these are shown with the numeral 2s. Measure 19 should give us a
hypermetric downbeat, with left-hand octaves and a new harmony, but instead we
get a continuation of the cascading right-hand figures. The vocal entrance at m. 20
may then be heard to mark a new hypermetric downbeat, and the hypermeter con-
tinues with downbeats on even-numbered measures from there. There is also a
strong “shadow” hypermeter in this section; one may hear hypermetric downbeats
with the root position triads in mm. 21, 23, and 25—and indeed, the forward-
directed energy of each poetic line in the rising musical sequence enacts the
“Streben” (striving) of love in the poem. The shadow hypermeter is shown with
numeral 2s in parentheses.
To summarize, expansions mark three levels in the poetic and musical struc-
ture of “Wanderlied.” At the lowest level, an extra measure of piano figuration sus-
pends hypermetric time between couplets of the B section (within the second
quatrain of Goethe’s stanzas). At the next level, line repetition and augmentation
(x2) create rhetorical emphasis at the end of the A section (at the end of the first
quatrain of each stanza). At the highest level, repetition of a couplet, further repe-
tition within the final line, and declamatory augmentation (x2 and x4) mark the
end of the B section (at the ends of the eight-line stanzas). “Wanderlied” thus illus-
trates Hensel’s use of rhythmic expansion in the rhetorical shaping of musical
form. We shall find further techniques of expansion in “Gondellied,” Op. 1 No. 6,
and “Nachtwanderer,” Op. 7 No. 1. First, however, we turn to three songs (Op. 1
No. 3–5) that use other markers for poetic and musical form.
“Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass” (Heine):

Elisions, Hypermetric Reinterpretations, and Cyclic
versus Directional Form
In “Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass” (Why then are the roses so pale), the
Heine setting that Hensel chose for the third song in her Op. 1 collection, there is
no augmentation of declamatory rhythm, and only a single line is repeated. There
are phrase elisions, this time with hypermetric reinterpretations, and there are
intriguing higher-level links between poetic and musical rhythms. The poetic and
musical rhythms do not align precisely; rather, they respond to each other in inter-
esting ways. This is a lovely example of Nägeli’s “polyrhythm,” combining the
rhythms of speech, singing, and playing to express multiple levels of lyric con-
sciousness. Hensel wrote “Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass” in 1837, the same
year as “Wanderlied.”
The first three quatrains of Heine’s poem ask again and again, in so many ways,
why nature is so dismal. The language is repetitive; every couplet begins
“Warum . . . ?”
Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass, Why then are the roses so pale,
O sprich mein Lieb warum? O speak my love why?
Warum sind denn im grünen Gras Why then in the green grass
Die blauen Veilchen so stumm? Are the blue violets so silent?
Warum singt denn mit so kläglichem Laut Why then with such pitiful sound
Die Lerche in der Luft? Does the lark sing in the sky?
Warum steigt denn aus dem Balsamkraut Why then does there rise from the balsam
Verwelkter Blütenduft?17 A wilted blossom scent?
Warum scheint denn die Sonn’ auf die Au’ Why then does the sun shine down on
the meadow
So kalt und verdriesslich herab? So cold and morose?
Warum ist denn die Erde so grau Why then is the earth so gray
Und öde wie ein Grab? And barren like a grave?
In the fourth quatrain (below), the poet turns from the world of nature and
asks why he himself is so sick and gloomy. (Heine’s poetic persona is generally
assumed to be male, although in Hensel’s song it could be understood as female.)
The second couplet of this final quatrain then breaks with the obsessive pattern; it
begins with an appeal to the beloved, and the question appears in the final line.
This last question, “Warum verliessest du mich?” (Why did you leave me?), answers
all the previous questions and remains itself unanswered.
Warum bin ich selbst so krank und so trüb,’ Why am I myself so sick and so gloomy,
Mein liebes Liebchen, sprich? My dear love, speak?
O sprich, mein herzallerliebstes Lieb, Oh speak, my dearest love,
Warum verliessest du mich?18 Why did you leave me?
The displacement of the final “Warum” is interesting from both structural and
expressive points of view. First consider structure: with this displacement, the lines
group as 1+2+1. We get “Warum . . .” in the first and fourth lines and a reiterated
17. This couplet is given here with a change that Hensel made. Heine’s line is much more intense:
“Warum steigt denn aus dem Balsamkraut Hervor ein Leichen duft?” (Why then does the fragrance
of a corpse rise from the balsam?) For commentary on Hensel’s textual intervention, see Müller,
“‘Leichen-’ oder ‘Blüthenduft’?” 45–47; and Williams, “Biography and Symbol,” 53.
18. Heine, Säkularausgabe, Vol. 1: Gedichte 1812–27, 72.
address to the beloved in the second and third lines. This grouping syncopates
against the abab rhyme scheme and alternating tetrameter/trimeter lines. In
addition, the chiastic structure of lines 2–3 reinforces the feeling of syncopation;
we get “Mein liebes Liebchen” and “mein herzallerliebstes Lieb” at the beginning of
line 2 and end of line 3, and “. . . sprich? / O sprich . . .” in between.
Now consider rhetoric and expression: the last question contrasts with all the
preceding ones not only in that it is about the love relationship but also in that it is
in a trimeter line. All the questions in stanzas 1–3 are wordy and awkward, with the
unnecessary “denn” (then), a symptom of avoidance. The poet drops the word
“denn” at the beginning of the fourth stanza, in “Warum bin ich selbst so krank
und so trüb” (Why am I myself so sick and gloomy?). This question is already more
to the point, as it were. It is the final question, however, that is most concise and
direct: “Warum verliessest du mich?” (Why did you leave me?). It is like a struc-
tural downbeat at the poem’s end.
Hensel’s song is in an ABAB form like the first two songs; sections are marked
in Example 3.4 (web) . The song begins with a two-bar melody in the piano;
this will become a motto, repeating obsessively like the poem’s “Warum . . .” Scale
degree 5 descends to 3 with plaintive upper-neighbor motion to ^6 and a harmo-
nization that begins on the dominant (V6/5) and resolves to the tonic. The singer
takes up this two-bar melody for the first line, “Warum sind denn die Rosen so
blass.” The bass E, however, does not resolve to A in m. 4 as in m. 2; thus continuity
is maintained once the strophe gets going. The two-bar motto returns in G minor
for the beginning of the second couplet, “Warum sind denn im grünen Gras” (mm.
7–8) and then again in A minor in the piano interlude, mm. 18–19.
The motto elides with the vocal cadence in m. 18, like a thought that returns
of its own accord, and it then sets up the beginning of the third strophe. After the
auxiliary cadence of mm. 1–2, we do not get another authentic cadence in A
minor until m. 18—the very moment of overlap and return.19 This creates a form
of continuity that matches the poem’s obsessive return, although it occurs at a
different structural level. The poem marks its return with each couplet, the song
with each pair of strophes. The cadence and elided return occur again in mm.
35–36, at the end of the second B section. (We shall come to the repetition of the
final line soon.)
The phrase elision forces a hypermetric reinterpretation. Hypermetric down-
beats occur on odd-numbered measures through the first A and B sections; these
are marked with 2s to show a two-bar layer. Measure 17 is a hypermetric down-
beat, and we expect the cadence at m. 18 to continue a two-bar span. Instead, the
elided motto produces a new hypermetric downbeat. Hypermetric downbeats
continue on even-numbered measures in the second A and B sections, shifting
back to odd-numbered measures with the elision of m. 35.
This is a common technique, one of two options in the interaction between
elided phrases and hypermeter. (Songs 1 and 2 illustrate the other option, with
19. Diether de la Motte describes tonal continuity in this song as a form of harmonic wandering that
matches the poem’s pervasive questioning. See Motte, “Einfall als Bereicherung der Musiksprache,”
58–59.
phrase elisions but no hypermetric reinterpretation. The vocal phrases there

expand to arrive at ongoing hypermetric downbeats.) The interesting thing here,
however, is that Hensel prepares the hypermetric shift ahead of time. Measures 16
and 17 repeat the same harmony and figuration, with octave Es in the left hand and
doubling of the voice in unison and sixths in the right. Measure 16, where this
pattern begins, may thus already be heard as a hypermetric downbeat, preparing
that of m. 18. Notice that the continuity of piano figuration in mm. 16–17 “synco-
pates” over the break in poetic lines. We may represent this as “warum steigt denn
aus dem (Balsamkraut / verwelkter Blüten) Duft?”; the slash shows the line breaks,
and the parentheses show the grouping that we hear with changes of piano figura-
tion. The sense of a syncopation becomes even more apparent when this happens
at the end of the second B section; there we get “O sprich mein herzaller- (liebstes
Lieb, / warum verliessest du) mich?” This is indeed a polyrhythm with layered
poetic and musical groupings. Musically, the syncopation prepares the new hyper-
metric downbeat and reinforces the circular continuity, the sense in which the
cadence is already a new beginning.
But what of the poem’s directional form, the sense that it all leads to the final
question and a structural downbeat at the poetic cadence? In a simple sense, the
ABAB form works against the directional form. The cadences at the ends of the B
sections do not differentiate between the (obviously different) endings of stanzas 2
and 4. The singer, of course, does repeat “Warum verliessest du mich” with the
motto at the end of the song, also repeating the “warum” to fit the vocal melody.
And whereas this question is first sung with a scalar descent to the tonic and per-
fect authentic cadence, it is repeated with an open ending on ^3, the bass remain-
ing on the dominant (m. 38).
There is also a structural correlation that differentiates between the two B sec-
tions, however, in that it only occurs with the second B section. Both B sections
include two piano textures, and these coincide—almost exactly—with the 1+2+1
grouping of the final quatrain. Figuration “a” consists of left-hand octaves and con-
tinuous sixteenths in the right hand with descending lines (see mm. 28–29 and
33–34). Figuration “b” is that of the rest of the song: rising arpeggios that begin in
the left hand and reach up to melodic pitches in the right. Figuration a sets the first
line, “Warum bin ich selbst so krank und so trüb” (mm. 28–29). Figuration b sets
lines 2 and the beginning of 3, “mein liebes Liebchen sprich? / O sprich mein
herzaller-(liebstes Lieb)” (mm. 30–32). Figuration a then sets the end of line 3 and
beginning of line 4 (mm. 33–34). This is the one mismatch; the piano textures align
with the poetic syncopation of stanza 4, but they add an extra, lower-level synco-
pation at the end of the stanza.
Example 3.5 illustrates this in a rhythmic reduction. The quarter here corre-
sponds with a measure in the notated song. The top line shows the poetic syncopa-
tion; each half note corresponds with two measures and a poetic line, and the 4/4
measure corresponds with four-bar spans and poetic couplets. The middle line
shows the rhythm of piano textures; we see the higher-level syncopation that works
with the poetic syncopation, and the lower-level syncopation, independent of the
poem, in the second bar (= mm. 32–35). Returning to the score, we may notice that
the bass has a suspension figure in mm. 31–33: bass Fs are consonant in m. 31, they
become dissonant in m. 32 and resolve down by step in m. 33. This suspension
figure is part of the syncopation, shown in the second line of Ex. 3.5. The bottom
line in Ex. 3.5 shows the hypermetric reinterpretation in m. 35.
Example 3.5: Poetic and Musical Syncopations in “Warum sin denn die Rosen so
blass”
28 32
Poetic
Syncopation
Piano
35
Textures
Hypermetric
35

Reinterpretation
The typical problem in strophic settings is that music written for the first stanza
does not work as well for latter stanzas. Here we have the reverse: a mismatch in
the earlier stanza and correlation in the final one. It is as if Hensel had this final
stanza in mind as she wrote the music for the B section. In any case, the result is a
clarification in the final strophe as musical and poetic structures (mostly) align.
This clarification, in turn, may be heard as a feature of the poet’s conscious aware-
ness and voice. It is here, finally, that he gives voice to the most important question,
the question that is behind all the other questions,“Why did you leave me?” Musical
and poetic rhythms mismatch when the poet’s consciousness is divided between
the questions he asks and those that he most needs to ask. Musical and poetic
rhythms match (again, mostly) as the poet’s expressive voice connects with his
innermost being. The musical form is circular in itself, but it becomes directional
as it first clashes and then combines with poetic rhythms.
“Maienlied” (Eichendorff ): Spring Roguishness and Changing

Declamatory Schemas
The Eichendorff settings that Hensel chose for the fourth and fifth songs in her Op.
1 and first song in her Op. 7 stem most likely from the period after 1840. The ear-
liest dated Eichendorff settings are from 1841, and Hensel tended to set poems by
individual poets within particular time periods of her life.20 (Goethe is an exception;
Hensel set his poems throughout her compositional career.) There is a more adven-
turous strain here, which may have been inspired by the poetry itself with its
romantic evocations of nature, movement, and song. Eichendorff ’s poetry inspired
similar pulsating rhapsodic settings by Robert Schumann in 1840, which we will
explore in chapter 5. It seems likely that Hensel would have heard or played
Schumann’s songs at some point, but we don’t have any indication of when that
20. Maurer, Thematisches Verzeichnis, 128 and 179–81.

was or of her response to them. In any case, Schumann’s Eichendorff Liederkreis,

Op. 39, was first published in 1842, after Hensel had set her first Eichendorff songs.
(Hensel met Robert Schumann during a visit to Leipzig in 1843, and both Robert
and Clara Schumann spent time with the Hensel family in 1847.)21
The more adventurous settings may also have come from increased confidence,
after the Hensels’ trip to Italy. Fanny and Wilhelm Hensel found a group of French
artistic and musical friends in Rome in the spring of 1840, and they both thrived.
She wrote in her travel diary, “I’m also doing a lot of composing at the moment;
nothing stimulates me more than being appreciated, just as disapproval disheartens
and depresses me.”22 Hensel also found simple pleasures among the Frenchmen in
Rome, and a new form of freedom. Tillard describes the social context and its role
in Fanny’s life:
Both Berlioz and Massenet praised the joyful conviviality that reigned among the
residents of the Villa Medici. Away from their Parisian studies they behaved like
frolicking colts—rather erudite ones, at that; endless laughter accompanied their
picnics in the country, and Fanny lived amid a carefree gaiety that she had never
known before. In her own youth, all the Mendelssohn children’s games had taken
place in front of Lea [their mother], and the scholarly tone appropriate to the enter-
tainment of child prodigies had to be maintained. In Rome, surrounded by
Frenchmen, Fanny finally realized the meaning of the word liberty.23
As it turns out, Hensel’s “Maienlied” (May Song), Op. 1 No. 4, evokes pleasures
very much like those she found in Rome. There is a carefree youth in the poem,
which was titled “Der Schalk” (The Rogue). Here is the first stanza:
Läuten kaum die Maienglocken No sooner do the lilies-of-the-valley ring

Leise durch den lauen Wind, Softly on the mild breeze,
Hebt ein Knabe froh erschrocken A youth rises with startled joy
Aus dem Grase sich geschwind, Quickly from the grass,
Schüttelt in den Blütenflocken In the flower petals he shakes
Seine feinen blonden Locken, His fine blond locks,
Schelmisch sinnend wie ein Kind.24 Impishly musing like a child.
There is an excess of spring energy not only in the subject matter of Eichendorff ’s
poem but also in its structure. The first four lines form a complete quatrain, but the
stanza then continues on with three more lines. This latter tercet furthermore
compresses the rhythm of the quatrain in a kind of energetic intensification. The
rhyming syllables of lines 1 and 3 recur twice more in immediate succession in
lines 5–6, before a final return to the “ind” rhyme. At the same time, Eichendorff
21. Tillard, Fanny Mendelssohn, 305 and 327.

22. Quoted in Tillard, Fanny Mendelssohn, 280.
23. Tillard, Fanny Mendelssohn, 280–81.
24. Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff, Sämtliche Werke des Freiherrn Joseph von Eichendorff: Historisch-
Kritische Ausgabe, Vol. 1, bk 1, edited by Harry Fröhlich and Ursula Regener (Stuttgart: Kohlhamer,
1993), 192.
balances the Wind/geschwind rhyme from lines 2 and 4 with a compressed dou-
bling of the “ind” phonemic family in line 7: “Schelmisch sinnend wie ein Kind.”
There are further musical qualities to the poetry: one notes the alliterations of
Läuten/Leise/lauen in lines 1–2 for instance, and the 2+2 assonance in “Seine
feinen blonden Locken” (line 6).
Hensel’s setting is strophic, but each strophe has a fluid tonal scheme and
changing declamatory schemas. We shall focus on the first strophe, setting the
stanza above; see example 3.6 (web) . This is the first and only triple-meter
setting in the Op. 1 collection (see table 3.1). Chords in pulsating triplets divide
each beat through most of the song. We thus get triple relations at two levels of the
metric hierarchy, as in a 9/8 meter. (Hensel’s Op. 7 No. 1, which is also an Eichendorff
setting with pulsating chords, is notated in 9/8.) The singer has regular eighths
against the pulsating triplets in the setting of lines 1–2; these form a subtactus
hemiola or cross-rhythm. The piano and singer join in regular (i.e., non-triplet)
eighths to depict the shaking motion of “Schüttelt in den Blütenlocken / seine
feinen blonden Locken” (In the flower petals he shakes his fine blond locks); see
mm. 13–16.
Changes of declamatory schema also contribute to the shaping of the strophe.
Hensel sets lines 1–4 with an upbeat-oriented [3 / 1 - 3 / 1] schema. The metrical
accents thus coincide with the second and fourth poetic feet. Hensel balances these
initially with registral accents and harmonic changes on beat 3, emphasizing the
first and third poetic feet. The registral accents are readily apparent in the vocal
line; the harmonies continue from beat 3 into the following bars. This indeed works
well as a musical reading of poetic rhythm. In the first line, for instance, all four
poetic feet may receive emphasis: “Läuten” (ring) as the verb with a sound that will
resonate (or ring!) in the alliterations of “leise” and “lauen”; “kaum” (no sooner) as
the logical connector with the second couplet; “Mai-(en)” (May) as the temporal
reference to spring, and “glocken” as the grammatical subject and line ending that
will rhyme with “erschrocken.” Registral and metrical accents combine to empha-
size only the second and fourth poetic feet in lines 3–4, and this again works well
as declamation. Here, in addition, the octave leaps depict the youth’s sudden rise
from the grass. The youth rises in the bright key of B major (III#), with repetition
and echoes in the piano.
Hensel then shifts to a downbeat-oriented [1, 2, 3 / 1 - -] schema for lines 5–6.
This enables a nice metrical accent on “Schǘttelt in den” in line 5. Here especially, a
metrical accent on the second poetic foot—in a hypothetical continuation of the
[3 / 1 - 3 / 1] schema—would have been awkward. The new schema also enables
the regular oscillation of eighths for each poetic syllable, the very oscillation that
depicts the roguish shaking of blond locks. Tonally, we shift suddenly from B major
to an A minor harmony (mm. 12–13). B and D# hang on as lower diatonic and
chromatic neighbors, while A minor becomes a predominant (ii) in the return to
G major. In other words, the new declamatory schema and rhythm combine with
a new harmony—which, however, is part of a larger tonal motion back to G major.
Hensel reads the seven lines in a single musical gestalt (tonal motion from G to B
and back) but also clearly marks the 2+2+3 grouping of the poetic lines and
individual moments in the poetic narrative.
Hensel repeats the last line of the stanza for rhetorical emphasis and closure,
as she often does. Here there is no expansion of declamatory rhythm, as in songs
1 and 2, but there is a modification of the declamatory schema to bring about
closure. Hensel returns to the [3 / 1 - 3 / 1] schema for the first iteration of “schel-
misch sinnend wie ein Kind” (mm. 17–18); she then uses the cadential schema
[3 / 1, 2 - / 1] for the second iteration (mm. 19–20). The earlier arrival and length-
ening of the penultimate poetic foot allow for stronger closure on the final foot.
The piano interlude elides with this cadence, we get a new hypermetric down-
beat (i.e., a hypermetric reinterpretation), and this leads on to the second
strophe.
“Morgenständchen” (Eichendorff ): Irregular Phrase Rhythms,

Dramatic Form, and Inwardness
“Morgenständchen” (Morning Serenade), Op. 1 No. 5, the second Eichendorff

setting, ups the ante. The poem itself is more radical, as is Hensel’s setting. The
poetic structure is regular and volkstümlich: it is printed in a continuous sixteen-
line stanza, but the rhyme scheme (abab cdcd . . . ) articulates four even quatrains,
and the lines themselves are in a regular trochaic tetrameter. The radical element
of the poem is not in its structure but in its use of language. Images are thrown up
without obvious syntactic function. There are no verbs in the first quatrain, for
instance, only spaces and sounds that apparently fill and traverse them:
In den Wipfeln frische Lüfte, Fresh breezes in the treetops,

Fern melod’scher Quellen Fall, In the distance, the melodious fall of springs,
Durch die Einsamkeit der Klüfte Through the solitude of chasms
Waldeslaut und Vogelschall, Forest sounds and birdcalls,
The meaning of many of the images furthermore remains in flux as the poem
continues, and the protagonists remain unidentified. The “Scheuer Träume
Spielgenosson” (play companions of shy dreams) in the second quatrain
(below) would seem to be birds, though we must infer this from the full qua-
train. And who is this “you” at the end of the second quatrain? Presumably the
beloved, but he or she is neither named nor mentioned at any other point.
Scheuer Träume Spielgenossen, The play companions of shy dreams,

Steigen all’ beim Morgenschein All rise with the morning brightness
Auf des Weinlaubs schwanken Sprossen On the grapevine’s swaying shoots
Dir in’s Fenster aus und ein.25 In and out of your window.
Meanings become a little clearer in the third and fourth quatrains but only so
as to thematize something ineffable, an ecstatic convergence of the dreaming self
25. Hensel set this line as “Dir zum Fenster aus und ein.”
and sonorous nature that slips away as the day “loudly stirs its wings.” All that is left
is desire and pain, which long after still “ring” deep in (our) hearts.
Und wir nah’n noch halb in Träumen, And we approach still half dreaming,
Und wir tun in Klängen kund, And we make known in sounds,
Was da draußen in den Bäumen That which outside in the trees
Singt der weite Frühlingsgrund. Sings the wide spring earth.
Regt der Tag erst laut die Schwingen: When the day first loudly stirs its wings:
Sind wir Alle wieder weit— We are all again far away—
Aber tief im Herzen klingen But deep in our hearts
Lange nach noch Lust und Leid.26 Long after, desire and pain still ring.
Reading back over the poem, we may notice especially the importance of
sound and song. Song belongs to the ineffable realm of nature; sound approaches,
references, and recalls this realm imperfectly. Thus, in the third quatrain, “wir tun
in Klängen kund / was da draussen in den Bäumen / singt der weite Frühlingsgrund”
(we make known in sounds / that which outside in the trees / sings the wide spring
earth). In the final couplet, which is separated from the rest of the poem by a dash,
desire and pain ring (klingen) deep in the hearts of the outcast selves. As we will
see, Hensel situates her poet in the midst of singing nature, but the song of nature
fades in and out as the poet awakens to recall it.
A score for Hensel’s setting is given in example 3.7 (web) . Pulsating chords
in sixteenths, like the pulsating triplet-eighths in “Maienlied” but faster, create a
shimmering texture. Harmonies change with the notated measures (e.g., mm. 1–2,
4), with the half-note layer (e.g., mm. 3, 5–6), and with further elaborations toward
the end of the strophes (e.g., mm. 7–9). Poetic lines are sung over these pulsating
harmonies in an unusual schema [2, 3, 4 / 1]. Thus each line enters over a harmony
and pulsating motion that the piano has already established, and it concludes with
the change of harmony. The singer as poetic-persona, in this sense, responds to
independent layers of motion in the piano-cum-pulsating, singing nature. This
kind of rhythmic interaction between the voice and piano is new in the sequence
of Op. 1 songs, and it is something that Hensel returns to and develops further in
the first of the Op. 7 songs.
Hensel combines the poetic lines of each couplet in a continuous flow, with
two [2, 3, 4 / 1] schemas in direct succession, and she separates the couplets with
single-bar responses in the piano (e.g., mm. 3, 10, 13, 16). Thus, two- and four-bar
phrases no longer define the flow of poetic structures in musical time; rather, each
couplet takes three measures (with the piano responses). Hensel rounds out the
first strophe with repetition and an expansive variation of declamatory rhythm as
follows:
In den Wipfeln frische Lüfte, [2, 3, 4 / 1] . . .

Fern melod’scher Quellen Fall,
[piano response]
(continued )
26. Eichendorff, Sämtliche Werke, 1.1:201–202.

Durch die Einsamkeit der Klüfte

Waldeslaut und Vogelschall,
[piano echo]
Waldeslaut und Vogelschall, [4 / 1 - 3 - / 1]
Durch die Einsamkeit der Klüfte, [2, 3, 4 / 1] . . .
Waldeslaut und Vogelschall,
The quatrain as a whole is thus set in a nine-measure span (3+3+3), arriving on the
tenth downbeat. The first repetition of “Waldeslaut und Vogelschall” enters early, so
to speak (on the fourth beat rather than the second), and the declamatory rhythm
can thus expand (see mm. 6–8). With this momentary expansion the singer and
piano lead from a tonicized C# minor (vi in E) to the key of the dominant, B major,
and thereby prepare the concluding cadential progression.
The song is anomalous within the Op. 1 set, not only in its phrase rhythm but
also in its overall form. Hensel sets the four quatrains in a ternary form, ABA1, with
the second and third quatrains combined in the B section. (See the annotations in
the score.) This in itself could be the form for a relatively traditional setting, but
Hensel shifts gears dramatically at the ends of the B and A1 sections. The pulsating
sixteenths give way to eighth-note motion for the setting of the third quatrain
(mm. 17–21) and for a final repetition of the concluding couplet (mm. 32–35).
To understand the full musical and dramatic significance of these moments,
we need to situate them in context. The second quatrain is set in the dominant,
with melodic lines that are roughly analogous to those in the first quatrain.
Common-tone diminished-seventh harmonies in the piano responses of mm. 10
and 13 add piquancy and seem to reference the dream play of the poem. Hensel
does not repeat any lines from the second quatrain, rather she moves directly on to
the third. This third-quatrain setting then functions as a retransition with half
cadences in E. The form is like an aria or slow-movement sonata form, and the
shift of rhythmic gears can be heard as a formal element, a feature that combines
with harmony to mark the retransition.
The purely musical conception links with a poetic conception, however. It is in
this third quatrain that we first get a clear subject position, a collective self that
approaches something in dreams. (That which the collective self approaches is not
fully defined.) The doubling of the voice in octaves without pulsating sixteenths
thus marks a moment of interiorization and expectancy. “We”—the collective
self—are situated inside, in relation to the forest that sings outside (draussen), and
the piano joins this collective self, “inside.” There is a further rhythmic expansion
in mm. 20–21; Hensel marks ritardando and composes out a deceleration in note
values leading to the fermata on “Frühlingsgrund.” The startup after this then per-
forms the awakening and outward flight of the fourth quatrain, “Regt der Tag erst
laut die Schwingen . . .” (When the day first loudly stirs its wings . . .).
Sixteenth-note pulsations cease again at the end of the A1 section to perform tonal
return and poetic interiorization. We modulate to B major in the A1 section (as in A);
the eighth-note motion of mm. 32–36 brings us back to E with repeated motions to V7
and finally a perfect authentic cadence. The text here is that of the final couplet, with its
“klingen” (ringing) and memory, deep within: “aber tief im Herzen klingen lang nach
noch Lust und Leid” (but deep in our hearts long after, desire and pain still ring). It is
interesting, further, to note a change in the pattern of text repetition in the A1 section,
in comparison with the first-quatrain setting in A. Following the model of the first
quatrain, we would get the latter couplet, “aber tief im Herzen . . .” repeated already in
mm. 30–32. Instead, Hensel returns to the first two lines of the quatrain, “regt der
Tag . . .” in mm. 30–32 and reserves the repetition of the final couplet for
mm. 32–36. Hensel does not reproduce the dash that separates the last two poetic cou-
plets in her song text, but the shift back to E major in m. 32—with A naturals in the
arpeggiated B7 chord and vocal entrance—provides a musical analogue for the dash.
Lied purists, advocating fidelity to the poetry, may have reason to object to this
setting with its aria-like form. After all, we have already heard “aber tief im Herzen
klingen . . .” in mm. 26–28. Why are we hearing it again now? Hensel, however, had
her own conception; she had been to Italy and no longer felt bound by the stric-
tures of her teacher, Zelter, or her father, Abraham Mendelssohn. (Abraham wrote
to Fanny in 1820 of his pleasure in a song of hers that had “an easy, natural flow,”
and he critiques others that are “too ambitious for the words.”)27 There is interi-
ority, that crucial element of German Romanticism, and there is attention to the
text, but there is also an independently vibrant flow of song. And why not? It is
song, after all, that holds the key to the mysteries of nature, even for Eichendorff.
“Gondellied” (Geibel): Lyrical Effusion
Hensel concludes the Op. 1 collection with “Gondellied” (Song of the Gondolier),
a song that references Italy explicitly (written in the summer of 1841). It is a
beautiful love song that counterbalances the Heine settings of Songs 1 and 3. It is
in 6/8, like the two Heine settings, but this is a very different kind of 6/8. The key is
major, the tempo is Allegretto, and the piano arpeggios flow in broad waves.
Example 3.8 provides a score for the beginning of the song. Whereas the accompa-
niment figurations in Songs 1 and 3 mark out the dotted-quarter beat, here the
figuration rises and falls with each dotted half or notated measure. The wavelike
figuration, of course, depicts waves in the water and the rocking motion of the
gondola. Notably, the right-hand figuration rises to its peak and descends to its
trough on the eighth before each dotted-quarter beat. This slight offset may be felt
like the recurring resistances between a rocking boat and its swaying inhabitants.
The expansive lyricism that we found at the ends of strophes in songs 1 and 2
is taken here to a new level. The song as a whole is in a double strophic form (like
songs 1–3), but Hensel repeats the first quatrain in a refrain after each AB section.
Here, first of all, is the quatrain with a translation:
O komm zu mir, wenn durch die Nacht Oh come to me, as through the night
Wandelt das Sternenheer! The starry hosts travel!
(continued )
27. Hensel, The Mendelssohn Family 1:82–83, quoted in Williams, “Biography and Symbol,” 54–55.
Example 3.8: “Gondellied,” Op. 1 No. 6, mm. 1–6

$
Allegretto
6
8

6
$
8
dolce

sempre legato
6
8
$
3

O komm zu mir, wenn durch die Nacht,
Dies ist für sel’ - ge Lieb’ die Stund,

5

wan - delt das Ster - nen - heer,
Lieb - chen o komm, und schau,

e simile
Dann schwebt mit uns in Mondespracht Then with us, in moonlit splendor,
Die Gondel übers Meer.28 The gondola will float over the sea.
Example 3.9 provides the vocal line for the refrain. Hensel first sets the alternating
tetrameter and trimeter lines in normative two-bar phrase segments and four-bar
phrases, with the quatrain set in eight measures (mm. 20–27). She then repeats the
second couplet in a twelve-bar span, as follows:
dann schwébt mit úns in Móndesprácht (4 feet / 4 measures)

mit úns in Móndesprácht die Góndel ǘbers Méer, (6 feet / 4 measures)
dann schwébt mit úns, die Góndel ǘbers Méer. (5 feet / 4 measures)
28. Emanuel Geibel, Gesammelte Werke, Vol. 1, Jugendgedichte. Zeitstimmen. Sonette, 3rd ed. (Stuttgart:
Cotta, 1893), 62.
Thus, whereas Hensel extracts text phrases of varying lengths, she adjusts the rate
of declamation so that each text phrase fits into a four-bar span. In the first text
phrase, four poetic feet are set one to the measure (see mm. 28–31). In the second
text phrase, six poetic feet are set in four measures, in the schema [1 - / 1, 2 / 1, 2 /
1 -] (see mm. 32–35). In the third text phrase, five poetic feet are set in four mea-
sures, in the schema [1 - / 1 - / 1, 2 / 1 -] (see mm. 36–39). It is notable that musical
and linguistic syntax align, as four-bar phrasings are preserved. The first two text
phrases complete the poetic couplet and musical phrase; we arrive at an imperfect
authentic cadence in m. 35. The third text phrase reiterates the couplet in abbrevi-
ated form, and Hensel’s musical setting returns to selected elements from the
previous eight measures, just as the text does; compare the scalar descents in dotted
quarters for “dann schwebt mit uns” in mm. 28–29 and 36–37, and the figures for
“die Gondel übers Meer” in mm. 34–35 and 38–39.
Example 3.9: “Gondellied,” refrain (vocal line)

20
%

cresc.

o komm zu mir wenn durch die Nacht, wan - delt das Ster - nen - heer,
24

dann schwebt mit uns in Mon - des - pracht, die Gon - del ü - bers Meer, dann
28

schwebt mit uns in Mon - des - pracht, mit

IAC

32

uns in Mon - des - pracht die Gon - del ü - bers Meer, dann

PAC
36

schwebt mit uns, die Gon - del ü - bers Meer.
“Nachtwanderer” (Eichendorff ): Metric Irregularities and the

Suspension of Ego
Opening the Bote and Bock edition of Hensel’s Op. 7 songs, one notices the dedica-
tion to “Frau R. Lejeune Dirichlet.”29 Frau Dirichlet was Fanny’s younger sister,
Rebecka, with whom she was particularly close. Cécile Mendelssohn, Felix’s wife, once
29. The original title pages are reproduced in the 1985 edition of Opp. 1 and 7 from Bote and Bock.
noted, “Fanny and Beckchen belong to each other,”30 and Françoise Tillard observes,
“Mendelssohnians usually speak of the relationship each sister had with Felix, but in
reality the relationship between the two of them was deeper, more durable, and more
effective.”31 The dedication is particularly appropriate since Rebecka was a singer, and
she performed many of Fanny’s songs with her in the Mendelssohn home.32
We have a letter from Felix in which he recalls domestic performances by
Fanny and Rebecka, wondering if the same feeling could be achieved in a public
setting. He wrote to Fanny in April of 1837,
I want to write very seriously to you about your lied [“Die Schiffende”] yesterday, for
it was very beautiful. You already know what I think, but I was curious to see if my old
favorite—which I had only heard in our green room with the engravings or in the
garden room, with Rebecka singing and you playing the piano—would still have the
same effect on me in a crowded concert hall, by lamplight and following loud orches-
tral music. . . . Yesterday evening I liked it better than ever before, and it was very well
received by the audience. . . . Although Grabow sang it far less well than Beckchen used
to, it was nonetheless a good clean performance, and the last lines were very pretty.33
Clearly Rebecka sang well, and her voice would have been an inspiration to Fanny.
The triumph of Fanny’s Op. 7 is not only in the songs themselves, but also in that
she inscribes this moment of publication—of coming forth in public domains—
with the memory of private music making, and not with her famous brother but
with her sister.
We do not know whether Fanny and Rebecka played and sang “Nachtwanderer”
(Night Wanderer), Op. 7 No. 1, together, but one may take special pleasure in imag-
ining a joint performance of this song since there is an especially rich interplay of
melody in the piano and vocal parts.34 Here, in fact, we will find something like the
interdependence of voice and piano for which Schumann is famous (see chap. 5). This
interdependence, furthermore, emerges with a flexible phrase rhythm and a setting of
a poem that uses irregular line lengths for expressive purposes. In short, this is the
most adventurous of the songs that had appeared in publication to this point.
The first stanza of Eichendorff ’s poem sets the night scene. It has six lines in an
aabccb rhyme scheme with iambic tetrameter in lines 1–3 and 6, and iambic trim-
eter in lines 4–5. The shift to shorter trimeter lines marks the momentary awak-
ening of a nightingale; the return to a tetrameter line expresses the return to quiet
stillness. (The word stille refers to both quiet and stillness.) Each tercet (three-line
segment) has two accented endings followed by an unaccented ending; this inverts
the usual procedure whereby couplets or tercets conclude with the “stronger”
accented endings. One can hear in this a kind of uneasy excess, an openness of
rhythm where the syntax suggests closure.
30. Quoted in Tillard, Fanny Mendelssohn, 317.

31. Tillard, Fanny Mendelssohn, 317.
34. Thym comments on the equal partnership of voice and piano in “Nachtwanderer”; see “Crosscurrents
in Song,” 165.
Ich wandre durch die stille Nacht, I wander through the quiet night,
Da schleicht der Mond so heimlich sacht There the moon sneaks so secretively soft
Oft aus der dunklen Wolkenhülle, Often out from the dark cloud cover,
Und hin und her im Tal And here and there in the valley
Erwacht die Nachtigall, A nightingale awakens,
Dann wieder alles grau und stille. Then once again all is gray and still.
The second stanza (below) follows the model of the first, but the poet is baffled
by what he or she hears, and the singing itself becomes unhinged. The last two lines
of this stanza may be heard as a self-reflective response to the first three. The poet
seems to hear both the night song and his or her own poetry, the series of images
without clear meaning: “Oh wondrous night song:/ from far in the land, the rush-
ing of the streams, / soft shuddering in the dark trees—” This is already a form of
dream-singing.
O wunderbarer Nachtgesang: Oh wondrous night song:

Von fern im Land der Ströme Gang, From far in the land, the rushing of the
streams,
Leis Schauern in den dunklen Bäumen— Soft shuddering in the dark trees—
Wirr’st die Gedanken mir, Baffles my thoughts,
Mein irres Singen hier My insane singing here
Ist wie ein Rufen nur aus Träumen.35 Is like a cry only from dreams.
Adorno specifies the difference between subjectivity (i.e., the sense of self) in
Eichendorff and Goethe in a way that is relevant here. He writes, “The word ‘wirr’
[confused, chaotic], one of his [Eichendorff ’s] favorites, means something com-
pletely different than the young Goethe’s ‘dumpf ’ [dull, tropid, stale]: it signals the
suspension of the ego, its surrender to something surging up chaotically, whereas
Goethean dullness always referred to a self-assured spirit in the process of
formation.”36 It is indeed a kind of chaotic surging and suspension of the ego that
we find here and that we will find in Hensel’s setting. Adorno interprets this
element of Eichendorff poetry as “genuinely anticonservative: a renunciation of
the aristocratic,” since the aristocratic self is no longer concerned to preserve
itself. (Eichendorff himself was an aristocrat, but Adorno hears progressive ele-
ments in his poetry.) In an analogous way, with the publication of her songs,
Hensel rejected the strictures of her bourgeois-aristocratic background and
gender, strictures that inhibited her from emerging into the “crass” world of pub-
lishing. She, likewise, was no longer concerned to preserve the “self ” that was
delimited by family, class, and gender.
We may begin to get a sense for the rhythmic fluidity of Hensel’s setting with
the first strophe; a score is given in example 3.10 (web) . There is a background
35. Eichendorff, Sämtliche Werke, 1.1:12. The song has “dunkeln” in place of Eichendorff ’s “dunklen”
(third line in each stanza), “Irrst” in place of Eichendorff ’s “Wirr’st” (stanza 2, line 4), and “wirres” in
place of Eichendorff ’s “irres” (stanza 2, line 5).
36. Theodor W. Adorno, “In Memory of Eichendorff,” in Notes to Literature, ed. Rolf Tiedemann, trans.
Shierry Weber Nicholsen (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), 65.
of two-bar phrase segments, but also adjustments and flexibility in how the singer
and piano fill those segments. Lines 1 and 2 are set in a similar fashion, with rising
melodies in two-bar spans: [1, 2, 3 / 1 - -]. The rhythmic parallelism belies tonal
fluidity, for the second line already lands on V/vi with an expressive appoggiatura
(m. 6). Hensel then stretches out the declamation of the third line (doubled in the
bass) to two full measures and an arrival on the third. She places the initial mono-
syllabic word, “oft,” on a downbeat (this would be unaccented in a strict iambic
reading), stretches out “Wol-ken-” for two beats, and arrives with the last unac-
cented syllable of “hülle” on a downbeat.
Measure 9 presents a strong cadence in D minor (vi), but we immediately con-
tinue on with a stepwise rising bass and dialogue between single-bar melodies in
the piano and voice. The declamation is extremely unusual; each trimeter line is set
in the upbeat oriented schema [2, 3 / 1]. (The piano melodies could likewise be
described as having a [2, 3 / 1] schema.) This part of the strophe spans five mea-
sures, organized melodically as <piano-voice-piano-voice-piano>.
Downbeat orientation is restored with the setting of line 6, “dann wieder alles
grau und stille” (mm. 14–17). We may compare this with the setting of line 3 at the
end of the first tercet. Whereas line 3 is set in a two-measure span arriving on the
third downbeat (7–9), line 6 is set in a three-measure span arriving on the fourth
downbeat (14–17). Internal text repetition enables this expansion: “dann wieder
alles grau, alles grau und stille.” The setting of this sixth line confirms F major, with
a passing Db and vii07/V to paint the poem’s “grau” (gray).
The second strophe begins somewhat like the first, but Hensel goes on to
express the confusion and disorientation of the poetic self rhythmically and met-
rically. First we may note that the piano begins the strophe by itself in mm. 17–18,
not with the introduction from mm. 1–2 but with the vocal melody and harmony
from mm. 3–4. The singer may be understood to “hear” the piano’s melody and
respond with her “O wunderbarer Nachtgesang” (Oh wondrous night song). The
basic pulse begins to blur with the right-hand tremolos of mm. 21–22, continuing
in both hands from m. 23. And whereas 9/8 gives way to 6/8 in the score at “irrst
die Gedanken mir” (confuses my thoughts), all we have to latch onto metrically is
the change of harmonies, the snippets of vocal declamation, and the overlapping
piano responses. Even there, conflicts unsettle the meter: the vocal declamation
suggests 6/8, and the piano responses suggest 3/4.37 Metric confusion performs the
disorientation of the poetic self. The meter finally settles back into 9/8 in m. 32, and
the arching piano melody links directly into the singer’s melody in m. 34.
We get lyric expansion at the end of “Nachtwanderer” similar to the expan-
sions in songs from the Op. 1 set, but here with a more flexible phrase rhythm.
Recall that mm. 7–9 set line 3 in two bars plus a downbeat arrival, and that mm.
14–17 expand this to three bars plus a downbeat arrival, at the end of the first
strophe. Here, at the end of the second strophe, Hensel takes the melody from the
end of the first strophe and expands it to four bars plus a downbeat arrival (mm.
34–38). This expanded melody sets an altered repetition of the last two poetic
37. See Motte, “Einfall als Bereicherung der Musiksprache,” 62; andThym, “Crosscurrents in Song,”
165.
lines. The passing D b from the middle of m. 15 returns on the downbeat of m. 35

and again in the vocal line in m. 37, with an inverted Aug6 chord (B, D b, F, A b) to
evoke the dream source of the poetic persona’s song.
Conclusion
In this chapter we have explored expansions, elisions, and relations between poetic
and musical rhythms in seven of Hensel’s songs; the six that she chose to publish
in her Op. 1 collection and the first of her Op. 7. The kinds of expansions we have
found here recur in songs throughout the history of the Lied, but Hensel’s songs
illustrate them in a particularly clear and concise way. We have also traced a pro-
gression, in this set of songs, from relatively simple settings to more complex and
rhythmically varied ones. This, in a nutshell, may be taken as one facet of Lied his-
tory through the first half of the nineteenth century. In the next two chapters we
turn to realism in Schubert’s songs (i.e., the representation of motion and reflective
consciousness via poetic and musical rhythms) and the interiorized reverberation
of voice in Schumann’s songs. Hensel’s lyricism, the feeling of song for the sake of
song, will return in the later nineteenth century with the songs of Brahms.
CHAPTER Four
Schubert: Repetition, Motion, and Reflection
Rhythmic effects in the Lied may have expressive functions, as features of the poetic,
vocal, and instrumental “voices,” and they may have representational functions, as
elements that depict the nonmusical in tones. On the expressive side, there are the
emotional effects conveyed by slow, drawn-out declamation versus rapid, excited, or
even rushed declamation; there is the evenness of the volkstümlich forms, with their
implied directness and simplicity, and there is the expansion of declamation and
phrase rhythm to highlight a particular poetic phrase or the ending of a strophe or
song. On the representational side, there are piano figurations that depict waves,
other effects related to nature, and the mimesis of human movement (walking,
dancing, or impish shaking of the head as in Hensel’s “Maienlied”). It was Schubert’s
particular gift to find uncannily precise representational effects, which also function
powerfully as expressive means. One finds similar effects throughout the history of
the Lied, but rarely with the simplicity and directness of Schubert’s songs.
Furthermore, by combining expressive and representational effects, Schubert links
the external world of nature and bodily movement with the internal world of the
emotions. “Was bedeutet die Bewegung?” (What does the movement mean?), sings
the lyric persona in Schubert’s “Suleika I,” D. 720. It is a question for nature and for
the self, and the movement we hear is in the harmonies, rhythms, and mysterious
figuration of the piano introduction (see ex. 4.1).1
Schubert’s songs are typically said to inaugurate the nineteenth-century Lied as
an art genre.2 The early Goethe settings, especially “Gretchen am Spinnrade,” D. 118,
1. Richard Kurth comments on this piano introduction and the question that follows. See Kurth, “On
the Subject of Schubert’s ‘Unfinished’ Symphony: ‘Was bedeutet die Bewegung?’,” 19th-Century Music
23, no. 1 (1999): 4–5.
2. Valuable overviews of Schubert’s songs can be found in Marie-Agnes Dittrich, “The Lieder of
Schubert,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Lied, ed. James Parsons (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2004), 85–100; and Susan Youens, “Franz Schubert: The Prince of Song,” in German
Lieder in the Nineteenth Century, ed. Rufus Hallmark (New York: Schirmer Books, 1996), 31–74.
John Reed provides a reference with documentary and interpretive notes on all the songs; see Reed,
The Schubert Song Companion (Manchester, England: Manchester University Press, 1997). More
95
Example 4.1: “Suleika I,” D. 720, mm. 1–5
3 Etwas lebhaft
4
3
4

(Mit Verschiebung)
3
4

#
4 &

&

'' '
'
' '
' '&
' '
'
'' '
''' '
'
'
and “Erlkönig,” D. 328, take pride of place in this narrative. There is certainly
something unprecedented in these songs, however one wishes to define it (composi-
tional technique, emotional power, unity of expression, fluency and virtuosity of the
piano parts . . . ), much as they draw on techniques that were already in circulation in
Vienna and elsewhere.3 They also gained wide circulation, became among the first
songs to be canonized, and were a source of inspiration for subsequent composers in
the genre. I have nonetheless inverted the narrative here, beginning with Hensel,
since her songs represent a more direct link with Zelter and the volkstümlich tradi-
tion of the eighteenth century, and also respond to poetic and musical developments
through the 1830s and ’40s. Schubert’s songs, on the other hand, represent something
particular, a form of musical realism that emerges from the Viennese context and is
not matched again until the songs of Hugo Wolf at the end of the century.4
recently, Michael Hall places songs in the context of their published sets; see Hall, Schubert’s Song Sets
(Aldershot, England: Ashgate, 2003). Arnold Feil focuses specifically on rhythm and meter in his
monograph on Die schöne Müllerin and Winterreise; see Feil, Franz Schubert: Die schöne Müllerin,
Winterreise, trans. Ann C. Sherwin (Portland, OR: Amadeus Press, 1988). An older perspective, out-
dated in certain respects but with valuable interpretations, can be found in Richard Capell, Schubert’s
Songs, 2nd ed. (New York: Macmillan, 1957). There are also cogent interpretive observations by Graham
Johnson in the liner notes to Franz Schubert: Complete Songs, in the Hyperion Schubert Edition.
3. See Dittrich, “The Lieder of Schubert,” 85–86; and Youens, “Franz Schubert: The Prince of Song,”
31–32. For more specific information on the Viennese context, see Ewan West, “Schuberts Lieder im
Kontext: Einige Bemerkungen zur Liedkomposition in Wien nach 1820,” trans. Helena Dearing,
Schubert durch die Brille: Internationales Franz Schubert Institut-Mitteilungen 12 (1994): 5–19.
4. Realism is typically associated with the later nineteenth century, but its roots may be discerned in the
period before 1850—that is, in the very Romanticism that it strove to overcome. See Jacques Barzun,
Classic, Romantic, and Modern, revised ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1975), chap. 6.
CHAPTER 4 Schubert: Repetition, Motion, and Reflection 97
How is this realism created? What are the techniques that create such effective
forms of musical representation, while also figuring in the expression and purely
musical flow? It is worth noting, at the outset, the importance of repetition and
motion. Rhythmic ostinati are ubiquitous in Schubert’s songs, and they create
myriad effects of motion and stillness. When a figure repeats without change, there
is motion in the figure, but stillness from iteration to iteration. When a figure
repeats with change, it traces larger arcs of motion. To take but three examples, for
now, there is the walking motion in repeated chords, identified by Susan Youens as
a recurrent trope in Winterreise, the spinning figuration of “Gretchen am Spinnrade,”
which repeats and changes to create a stunning miniature drama, and the threefold
repetition of that mysterious figure in the beginning of “Suleika I,” rising to con-
sciousness as it rises through three octaves.
Repetition creates not only effects of motion, but also of time, the flow of time,
and an amalgam of present experience, recollection, and forward projection or
imagination. As Adorno observes, “The repeatability of Schubertian details stems
from their timelessness, but their material realization gives them back to time.”5
The Schubertian persona, furthermore, is frequently in dialogue with him- or her-
self; there is a reflective consciousness in the poems and songs. Reflection in this
context does not necessarily involve a more distanced or “objective” attitude. If
anything, it is the reverse; reflection involves an explicit awareness and more
intense experience of the moment. The poetic-cum-musical persona realizes the
true intensity of his or her pain and longing. This may lead to catharsis, but it then
typically becomes another moment in the journey, and the journey itself cycles
back to song, memory, and trauma. The fascinating thing for us is that Schubert
frequently inscribes these moments of reflection with forms of rhythmic irregu-
larity. It is as though the persona steps outside of the regular musical pulsation,
breaks from the form, in order to reflect, comment on, and express the full inten-
sity of consciously felt emotion.
In this chapter I will trace effects of repetition, motion, and reflection in a
select group among the more than six hundred songs that Schubert wrote. The
songs have been chosen to illustrate particular forms of motion, rhythmic irregu-
larities, and moments of reflective consciousness or heightened subjectivity.
Analytical notes on “Auf dem Flusse” (On the River) from Winterreise, D. 911, will
introduce the central themes. We will then explore frantic motion and a wish for
stillness in “Rückblick” (Backward Glance), the song that follows immediately after
“Auf dem Flusse” in Winterreise. Three songs will illustrate Schubert’s rhythmic
irregularities and the sense of a reflective consciousness: “Wandrers Nachtlied I”
(Wanderer’s Night Song I), D. 224, “Die Nebensonnen” (The Mock Suns) from
Winterreise, and “Schäfers Klagelied” (The Shepherd’s Song of Lament), D. 121.
Finally, I conclude with a discussion of motion, repetition, and desire in “Gretchen
am Spinnrade” (Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel), D. 118. There are remarkable
correlations in this famous song between poetic and musical rhythms and, by
5. Theodor Adorno, “Schubert,” trans. Jonathan Dunsby and Beate Perrey, 19th-Century Music 29, no. 1
(2005 [1928]): 13. Scott Burnham responds to and elaborates on the notion of repetition, in Adorno’s
essay and Schubert’s music; see Burnham, “Landscape as Music, Landscape as Truth: Schubert and
the Burden of Repetition,” 19th-Century Music 29, no. 1 (2005): 31–41.
extension, between the voices of Gretchen as poetic and musical persona. It is not
that these always align, but they do at particular moments, in ways that have not
been explicitly recognized before.
The songs chosen here represent two periods in Schubert’s output, and the
setting of poems by two poets. “Gretchen am Spinnrade,” “Schäfers Klagelied,” and
the “Wandrers Nachtlied I” are all Goethe settings from the early period, 1814–15.
Goethe’s poems have been described as the “source and catalyst” for the genre; here
we explore three of them in relation to Schubert’s transformative settings.6 “Auf
dem Flusse,” “Rückblick,” and “Die Nebensonnen” are from Winterreise, the 1827
song cycle setting volkstümlich poems by Wilhelm Müller. Müller was a journalist,
translator, essayist, poet, and admirer of Lord Byron.7 The direct and simple rhythm
of Müller’s poetry captivated the late Romantic poet Heinrich Heine and was an
inspiration for Heine’s Lyrisches Intermezzo.8 We shall consider Heine’s poems in
relation to Schumann’s settings in chapter 5.
“Auf dem Flusse” (Müller): A Matter of the Heart
Example 4.2 (web) provides the opening of “Auf dem Flusse” (On the River), the
seventh song in Winterreise.9 After the introduction, the voice comes in over a
repeating two-bar progression, with bare i to V motion. Motion—of a minimal
sort—happens within each two-bar span, but only repetition from the first two-bar
unit to the next. And what words does the Wanderer sing? “Der du so lustig
rauschtest, du heller wilder Fluß” (You who once rushed so happily, you clear, wild
river). With these words in mind, the music seems to symbolize stillness, but also
something more: it symbolizes the stillness of something that once moved with
power and energy. Why or how is this so? There is, for one, the fact that the vocal line
merely doubles the bass. In other words, where there might once have been a melodic
line, moving freely like the stream, here all we get is the bass arpeggiation and offbeat
chords. There is also the subtle way in which the voice animates the line, as if to say,
“Listen, there could be energized motion here, and perhaps there once was.” The
singer has a dactylic rhythm for “Der du so,” a dotted rhythm “lustig,” and a synco-
pation on “rauschtest, - du.” The singer in this sense seems to recall and identify
with the motion that once was, while perceiving the stillness that now is. The
6. Harry Seelig, “The Literary Context: Goethe as Source and Catalyst,” in German Lieder in the
Nineteenth Century, ed. Rufus Hallmark (New York: Schirmer Books, 1996), 1–30.
7. Susan Youens, Retracing a Winter’s Journey: Schubert’s Winterreise (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press, 1991), 3–21.
8. See the letter from Heine to Müller, quoted in Youens, Retracing a Winter’s Journey, 19.
9. I provide analytical notes on “Auf dem Flusse” to introduce the central themes of the chapter. For more
detailed discussions of the song, see David Lewin, “Auf dem Flusse: Image and Background in a Schubert
Song,” in Studies in Music with Text (New York: Oxford University, 2006), 109–33; and Anthony Newcomb,
“Structure and Expression in a Schubert Song: Noch einmal Auf dem Flusse zu hören,” in Schubert:
Critical and Analytical Studies, ed. Walter Frisch (Lincoln: Nebraska University Press, 1986), 153–74.
Lewin and Newcomb both comment on aspects of rhythm and meter in the song.
“polyrhythm” of singing and playing, to use Nägeli’s term, already traces the split
between perception and memory. The Wanderer then sings “wie still bist du
geworden” (how still you have become), and the motion reduces to an absolute
minimum (mm. 9–10). Repetition happens from beat to beat, four times. The har-
mony is static, though not stable, for it is a 6/4 chord built on the leading tone. The
harmony manages to resolve, a fluid figure brings us back to E minor, and we begin
again for the second stanza (m. 14). Müller returns to the theme of motion that once
was but is no more in the second stanza: “Mit harter, starrer Rinde / hast du dich
überdeckt, / liegst kalt und unbeweglich / im Sande ausgestreckt” (You have covered
yourself with a hard, stiff crust, you lie cold and unmoving, stretched out in the sand).
And as throughout Winterreise, things that are cold and unmoving are also unfeeling.
In other words, this is not only about the river, it is also about the heart.
The Wanderer himself compares the stream and his heart in the fifth stanza,
reflecting on his situation and feelings. Before turning to the fifth stanza, however,
we need to set the scene. In stanzas three and four, the Wanderer inscribes his
name and that of his beloved in the ice, with the dates of their meeting and his
departure. The music flows in a warm E major, with more animated rhythms, and
the piano doubles the vocal line with pulsating chords. (See a full score, not
provided here.) The chords lead on to each successive downbeat, overflowing the
downbeat precisely at the phrase climax. Note that the phrases span eight mea-
sure in a continuous flow, with a full quatrain of the poem. (The convention, as we
recall, is to set each couplet with its own phrase, usually in four-bar spans.) The
declamation is in the usual trimeter schema [1, 2 / 1 -]. The singer ends the second
phrase with a leap up to B, ^5 (m. 38); the piano then leads toward resolution,
shifts to E minor in the process (m. 39), and stops before arriving (m. 40).
Resolution occurs only once the final section of the song gets under way; see
example. 4.3 (web) . Here the Wanderer stands apart, pressing the stream and
his heart for answers:
Mein Herz, in diesem Bache My heart, in this stream

Erkennst du nun dein Bild ? Do you now recognize your image?
Ob’s unter seiner Rinde Under its crust
Wohl auch so reißend schwillt?10 Does it also swell to bursting?
To capture the sense of a reflecting consciousness, Schubert’s singer declaims his

or her lines independently, apart from the flowing bass and right hand. There is
melodic independence, especially in mm. 41–47, and there is also rhythmic
independence. The first poetic line stretches over four bars, moving with its clauses
to the downbeats of the hypermetrically weak second and fourth measures (numerical
annotations show downbeats of the two-bar hypermeter). We can represent the
declamatory rhythm for “Mein Herz, in diesem Bache” in the form of a schema, as
[- - / 1 - / - 2 / 1 -]; notice how unusual this is in comparison with the trimeter
schemas we have seen. We begin to get more regular declamatory rhythm as the
10. Maximilian Schochow and Lilly Schochow, eds., Franz Schubert: Die Texte seiner einstimmig kompo-
nierten Lieder und ihre Dichter (Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag, 1974), 2:400.
stanza proceeds, with [1, 2, / 1 -] schemas, but irregularities continue at the hyper-
metric level. The piano’s 6/4 harmony on A# is sustained for only one measure (m. 45,
compare with ex. 4.2 (web) , mm. 9–10). The singer’s “erkennst du nun dein Bild”
then articulates [1, 2 / 1 -] in the two-bar span of mm. 46–47, and a new hypermeter
is established beginning on even-numbered bars. The piano continues this hyper-
meter in the following phrase, and the singer does as well initially (doubling the bass
line in tenths), but the singer is silent on the downbeat of m. 52. A repetition of “wohl
auch so reissend schwillt,” if there is to be one, “should” occur in mm. 52–53; instead
it is delayed until mm. 53–54 (with “ob’s” tacked on in the beginning). The arrival in
m. 54 then forms an elision with a varied repeat of the entire stanza.
The rhythmic irregularities in the final section of “Auf dem Flusse” convey a
quality of “speech rhythm,” as Nägeli might have put it, and they position the vocal
persona as one who not only sings but also hears, experiences, and reflects on his
or her experience.11 Forms of analytical introspection are already present in
Müller’s poems, as Youens has observed; Schubert stages these in the rhythmic and
tonal interaction of voice and piano.12 Overall, “Auf dem Flusse” has illustrated
forms of motion and stillness, and the rhythmic staging of a reflective self. These
are the features that we will continue to explore throughout this chapter.
“Rückblick” (Müller): Frenzied Motion and Yearning for Stillness
“Rückblick” provides us with an example of frenzied motion, and it ends with a

musically enacted wish for stillness. We shall consider the declamatory rhythm
together with other elements that contribute to the effect of hurried flight.13 The
poem has five stanzas in iambic tetrameter, with abab rhyme schemes and
alternating unaccented and accented line endings.
Es brennt mir unter beiden Sohlen, The soles under both my feet burn,
Tret’ ich auch schon auf Eis und Schnee. Though I already walk through ice and
snow.
Ich möcht’ nicht wieder Atem holen, I do not want to take another breath,
Bis ich nicht mehr die Türme seh.’ Until I no longer see the towers.
Hab’ mich an jedem Stein gestoßen, I banged myself on every stone,
So eilt’ ich zu der Stadt hinaus; In my haste to leave the town;
Die Krähen warfen Bäll’ und Schloßen The crows threw snowballs and hailstones
Auf meinen Hut von jedem Haus. Onto my hat from every house.
11. David Lewin highlights the reflective nature of these questions; see Lewin, “Auf dem Flusse,” 112–13.
Anthony Newcomb provides a different interpretation, which focuses on the “mounting of internal
passion excited by memory, and . . . the denial and repression of that passion necessitated by the
external situation.” See Newcomb, “Structure and Expression in a Schubert Song,” 156.
12. Youens, Retracing a Winter’s Journey, 58–62.
13. I am indebted to Arnold Feil for many observations about “Rückblick.” See Feil, Franz Schubert,
38–44. My interpretive framework, however, is different. Feil hears a breakdown of metric regularity,
whereas I focus on declamatory rhythm, metric dissonance, and the mechanisms of motion.
Wie anders hast du mich empfangen, You received me so differently,

Du Stadt der Unbeständigkeit! You town of inconstancy!
An deinen blanken Fenstern sangen At your gleaming windows
Die Lerch’ und Nachtigall im Streit. The lark and nightingale sang in contest.
Die runden Lindenbäume blühten, The round Linden trees bloomed,
Die klaren Rinnen rauschten hell, The clear gullies rushed brightly,
Und ach, zwei Mädchenaugen glühten! — And ah, a Maiden’s two eyes glowed! —
Da war’s geschehn um dich, Gesell! Then you were done for, my friend!
Kommt mir der Tag in die Gedanken, When I think of that day,
Möcht’ ich noch einmal rückwärts sehn, I want to look back once again,
Möcht’ ich zurücke wieder wanken, I want to stagger back again,
Vor ihrem Hause stille stehn.14 To stand still in front of her house.15
In the first two stanzas, the Wanderer tells of his ignominious flight from the
town. Stanza 1 is in the present tense; the Wanderer flees, and he does not wish
to stop until the town is out of sight.16 Stanza 2 shifts to the past tense; the
Wanderer recalls how he had tripped on each stone in his hurry to leave, and
how even the crows threw snowballs and hail at him. Stanzas 3 and 4 then take
us further back to that time of spring joy that precedes the entire cycle. A refer-
ence to the blooming linden tree reminds us of the pleasures in its shade,
recounted in “Der Lindenbaum.” Thoughts of the town and nature lead to the
more personal recollection, “Und ach, zwei Mädchenaugen glühten!” (And ah, a
Maiden’s two eyes glowed!). This is one of the rare references in the cycle as a
whole to the Maiden herself. Finally, in the last stanza, the Wanderer reflects on
his memory and observes its effect on him. The intense ambivalence is evident
as “Ich möcht’ nicht wieder Atem holen, bis ich nicht mehr die Türme seh’” (I do
not want to take another breath, until I no longer see the towers) from stanza 1
becomes “Möcht’ ich zurücke wieder wanken, vor ihrem Hause stille stehn” (I
want to stagger back again, to stand still in front of her house) in stanza 5.
Schubert sets the five stanzas in a ternary form, ABA1; stanzas 1–2 are in the
A section, stanzas 3–4 in the B section, and stanza 5 (repeated) in the modified
return. The initial A section depicts the Wanderer’s flight in G minor, and the
B section provides a pastoral setting in G major for the more distant recollections.
(Momentary shifts to E minor set the line “und ach, zwei Mädchenaugen glüh-
ten!”) The modified return begins in G minor with the music of flight and then
turns to major and comes to a standstill, enacting the Wanderer’s wish. Here we see
again, at a basic level, the importance of motion and stillness in Schubert’s songs.
As in many songs, Schubert sets the scene musically before the singer enters.
The piano introduction creates an effect of frenzied motion, and we may imagine
the Wanderer already in flight. (See a full score, not provided here.) But what are
the elements of motion? How does Schubert create the effect of hurried flight?
14. Schochow, Franz Schubert: Die Texte, 2:400–1.

15. The translation is adapted in part from Youens, Retracing a Winter’s Journey, 188.
16. Youens interprets the entire song as a memory. The first stanza would then be a memory enacted
vividly in the Wanderer’s mind. See Youens, Retracing a Winter’s Journey, 189.
There is the imitation between left and right hands. The fastest moving pulse is the
eighth, but it is blurred with delayed repetition. We also hear recurring chromatic
ascents in one bar leading to stasis (bare octaves) on the next. In other words, what
we have is not pure motion, but start and stop. Finally, the introduction is not eight
bars (4 × 2) as we might expect, but ten (5 × 2). One could create a more typically
balanced introduction by leaving out the repetition in mm. 9–10.
Example 4.4 (web) provides a score for the setting of stanzas 1–2 (section
A). Schubert sets the tetrameter lines of each stanza 1 couplet in a constant flow of
one accented syllable/quarter-note beat. The four-quarter groupings then work
against the notated 3/4 meter. The first line is set in beats [1, 2, 3 / 1] and the second
in beats [2, 3 / 1, 2 -]. (Capell observes that the opening vocal phrases “are really in
alternating bars of four and of five beats.”)17 The unaccented syllables at the end of
lines 1 and 3 have to fit in a sixteenth, followed immediately by the beginnings of
lines 2 and 4 (“Soh-len, / tret ich” and “ho-len, / bis ich”). Thus the singer-as-Wan-
derer rushes through the words and along the path away from town, without time
for a breath. A reading of the second line would include a trochaic substitution,
“trét ich auch schón . . .”; the singer has to trip over the accented “trét” in Schubert’s
setting.
Aspects of contour also project a two-quarter layer and emphasize the first and
third poetic feet in each line: “Es brennt mir unter beiden Sohlen, / tret ich auch
schon auf Eis und Schnee.” The word “brennt” sets the line in motion, “beiden” and
“Eis” receive registral and change-of-direction accents, and “tret ich” receives extra
input from the brief rush of sixteenths. The change of direction on “Sohlen” mean-
while hints at a continuation of the notated 3/4. From this perspective, one can
hear the vocal line in a two-measure hemiola cycle (mm. 11–12) that flows over
into the third measure (m. 13): [1, 2, 3 / 1] for the first line and [2, 3, / 1, 2 - ] for the
second. Annotations in the score also show this structure with bold and regular
type. The hemiola cycle must then “reset itself,” so to speak, to begin again on the
next downbeat. And what about the piano? The piano adds imitation, the age-old
musical metaphor for flight, which here becomes a potent performative symbol.
The piano imitates the vocal line at a distance of one quarter, splitting the movement
temporally between left and right hands.
The vocal cross-rhythms and imitation both ease off for the setting of the first
couplet in stanza 2. Schubert sets the lines in a three-plus-one schema: [1, 2, 3 / 1
- -], aligned with the 3/4 meter (see mm. 17–20). The change of declamatory
schema correlates with the shift from present-tense narration to recollection, men-
tioned above. Schubert then brings back the hemiola declamation for the second
couplet of stanza 2, “die Krähen warfen Bäll und Schlossen / auf meinem Hut von
jedem Haus” (The crows threw snowballs and hailstones / onto my hat from every
house). As so often in Winterreise, vivid memory elicits musical reenactment. (See
the storm scene in “Der Lindenbaum,” for instance.) Literal pitch repetition and
notated dynamic accents mark the beginning of the hemiola cycles (mm. 21 and
24). A further registral cross-accent perturbs the end of the cycles (G5’s circled in
the score: m. 22 beat 3 in the voice and 25 beat 3 in the piano). Example 4.5
17. Capell, Schubert’s Songs, 235.

illustrates the play of imitation between piano and voice at the ends of these
hemiola cycles. The piano imitates the vocal line at the distance of one quarter in
both cycles, as in the stanza 1 setting, but in the first cycle (ex. 4.5a) it also antici-
pates the voice (see the G-D-B figure, marked by dotted brackets below each part).
Imitation was a metaphor for flight; now it depicts the dodging of snowballs and
hailstones from every house.
Example 4.5: Voice/piano Interactions in “Rückblick”; mm. 22–23 (a) and mm.
25–26 (b)
*
34
(a)
Voice

mei - nen Hut von je - dem Haus,
3
Piano
+ 4
(b) * 3
Voice
4
mei - nen Hut von je - dem Haus,
3
Piano
+ 4
The declamatory schema in the B section is in the three-then-one model [1, 2,

3 / 1 - -] (see a full score), but this tells only part of the story. First of all, syllables
at the end of odd-numbered lines are stretched out over two quarters; see
“(emp)fang-en” in m. 29, “san-gen” in m. 33, and so forth. In comparison, the
weak final syllable of “hab mich an jedem Stein gestoßen” continues the regular
stream of eighths (mm. 17–18), and the same thing occurs in the setting of the
final stanza (see “Ge-dan-ken” in mm. 55–56). The couplets of stanzas 3 and 4 are
also linked in broad antecedent-consequent phrase structures; there was nothing
of this kind in the A section. Finally, there is the nearly constant pulsation of octave
Ds, which creates a shimmering musical texture.
Vocal hemiolas return at the beginning of the A1 section. Schubert alters the
contour, however, to weaken the hemiola effect; the lines ascend to notated down-
beats in two smooth gestures (see mm. 49–51 and 52–54). There is a declamatory
logic to this; it makes sense to set the first line of stanza 5 as “Kömmt mir der Tag in
die Gedanken” rather than “Kömmt mir der Tag in die Gedanken.” The weakening
of the cross rhythm, however, also contributes to the overall softening—a softening
that eventually leads to G major and a musically imagined wish fulfillment.
Finally, the hemiola is bedeviled by cross-rhythms to create a musical “stagger”
(“wanken”) for the last two iterations of “möcht ich zurücke wieder wanken / vor
ihrem Hause stille steh’n”; see Ex. 4.6 (web), mm. 59–61 and 62–65 . In both
instances, registral and dynamic accents initiate a displaced hemiola cycle, that is,
one which begins on the second beat of the measure: [1, 2, 3 / 1 . . . ]. The displaced
cycle is interrupted, however, with the second-beat accents on “ih-rem.” The first
time around, in mm. 60–61, “ihrem Hause stille steh’n” completes what would have
been a nondisplaced hemiola, with accents on beats 2 and then 1. The second time,
in mm. 63–65, “ih-(rem)” is extended, and the hemiola cycle finishes with “Hause
stille steh’n”—arriving for the first time with a tonic on the downbeat. Thus, the
pull of the 3/4 meter slows things down, interrupts the rushed hemiolas, and brings
us to a moment of stillness. In a music-text blend, we may say that the Wanderer
flees in two-quarter groupings, then stumbles and gradually gives in to the 3/4
idyllic memory of her house (“ihrem Hause”), complete with warbling triplets.
Idyllic temporality is continuous and peaceful; it is the temporality of standing still
(“stille steh’n”).18
Rhythms of Speech and Song
Irregularities of declamatory rhythm go to the heart of the Lied as miniature inte-

riorized drama. The irregularities mark shifts from “song” to “speech,” all within the
frame of musically set poetry. A song, in other words, may stage moments of speech
and of songfulness; we found this already in the middle and latter sections of “Auf
dem Flusse.” The basic distinction is between the rhythms of the classic Lied and
those of recitative or arioso singing. Many of Schubert’s early songs were inspired
by ballads, especially those of Johann Rudolf Zumsteeg (1760–1802), and the bal-
lads tended to use a variety of singing styles. “Die Erwartung,” D. 159, for instance,
is modeled directly on Zumsteeg’s setting of the same text by Schiller; both settings
alternate recitative and arioso styles. It is also in these ballads and dramatic scenes
that Schubert first honed the pictorial aspects of his compositional style. Now,
against the backdrop of the regular declamatory and phrase rhythms outlined in
chapters 1–2, we may consider the rhythms of speech more closely, and the way
these bring forth a reflective consciousness.19 Speechlike rhythms occur at the
center of the first two songs that I consider here, “Wandrers Nachtlied I” and “Die
Nebensonnen.” The speech moment is transformative in the “Wandrers Nachtlied,”
18. Regarding idyllic temporality, see David E. Wellbery, The Specular Moment: Goethe’s Early Lyric and
the Beginnings of Romanticism (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1996), 14.
19. Jürgen Thym compares moments of recitative and “song” in Schubert’s settings of free verse. See
“Schubert’s Strategies in Setting Free Verse,” in Essays on Music and the Spoken Word and on Surveying
the Field, ed. Suzanne M. Lodato and David Francis Urrows (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2005), 81–102. This
essay will be reproduced in Of Poetry and Song: Approaches to the Nineteenth-Century Lied, ed. Jürgen
Thym (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, forthcoming, 2010), 261–80. I shall return to
consider Schubert’s setting of “Ganymed” (which Thym also discusses) in chap. 7. Rufus Hallmark
shows how changes in the rate of declamation, in selected songs by Schubert, reflect rhythmic aspects
of the poetry and its meanings. See Hallmark, “On Schubert Reading Poetry: A Primer in the Rhythm
of Poetry and Music,” in Of Poetry and Song: Approaches to the Nineteenth-Century Lied, ed. Jürgen
Thym (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, forthcoming, 2010), 3–36.
and more ambiguous in “Die Nebensonnen.” We will then find that “Schäfers
Klagelied” inverts this form; the speech moments create a narrative frame for
song.20
“Wandrers Nachtlied I” (Goethe): Recitative Breakthrough
A quintessential example of recitative breakthrough occurs in the “Wandrers

Nachtlied I,” D. 224, a Goethe setting from 1815. The poem, given here with changes
made by Schubert, is brief but varied in its modes of expression.21
Der du von dem Himmel bist, You who are of heaven,

Alles Leid und Schmerzen stillst, Who stills all sorrow and pain,
Den, der doppelt elend ist, The one who is doubly wretched,
Doppelt mit Entzückung füllst, You fill doubly with rapture,
5. Ach, ich bin des Treibens müde! Ah, I am weary of bustle!
Was soll all der Schmerz und Lust? Why all the pain and pleasure?
Süsser Friede, Sweet peace,
Komm, ach komm in meine Brust! Come, oh come into my breast!22
Lines 1–4 recite soothing powers of the deity. The one who needs soothing is
referenced in the third person. The lines are all in trochaic tetrameter, and they all
rhyme with a single strong syllable. The poetic persona then comes forth in the
fifth line, as a reflective self, calling out “Ach, ich bin des Treibens müde!” (Oh, I am
weary of bustle.) Line 6 continues the thought from line 5, and lines 7–8 are a
personal prayer for peace. Line 7 has only two poetic feet, and the brevity calls
extra attention to the line and its subject.
Schubert sets lines 1–4 with a regular declamatory rhythm of one accented
syllable per quarter; each line thus fills a single measure in common time. Dotted
rhythms consistently set the first and third poetic feet (beats 1 and 3), and repeated
20. Schubert presents a song-moment in the middle of the “Wandrers Nachtlied II,” D. 768, at “Die
Vöglein schweigen, schweigen im Walde.” The “Wandrers Nachtlied II,” however, is largely a declam-
atory Lied, and the “song” within it represents a brief moment of lyric stability. Nonetheless, the
“Wandrers Nachtlied II” confirms the notion that Schubert uses rhythmic irregularity for moments
of reflection and interiorization, and the “objective” observation of the self in that song is once again
a path to deepened emotion and presence. See three complementary analyses of this song:
Georgiades, “Lyric as Musical Structure: Schubert’s Wandrers Nachtlied (“Über allen Gipfeln,”
D. 768),” trans. Marie Louise Göllner, in Schubert: Critical and Analytical Studies, ed. Walter Frisch
(Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1986), 84–103; Yonatan Malin, “Metric Displacement
Dissonance and Romantic Longing in the German Lied,” Music Analysis 25, no. 3 (2006), 252–58;
and Carl Schachter, “Rhythm and Linear Analysis: Aspects of Meter,” in Unfoldings (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1999 [1987]), 89–92.
21. Schubert uses “Entzückung” (joy or rapture) in line 4 in place of Goethe’s “Erquickung” (refresh-
ment). He also uses “stillst” and “füllst” in lines 2 and 4 in place of Goethe’s “stillest” and “füllest.”
Franz Schubert, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1964–2005), 4.1b:317.
22. The translation includes elements from translations in Philip L. Miller, The Ring of Words: An
Anthology of Song Texts (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1966), 89, and Reed, The Schubert Song
Companion, 428.
pitches give the opening a “declamatory” feel. The piano begins with a simple dac-
tylic rhythm and introduces bass octaves and offbeat chords in mm. 3–4 (lines
3–4). The regular declamatory rhythm and accompaniment patterns then break
down with line 5 (m. 5), and we get a brief moment of recitative, descending
quickly through the octave. Harmonically, we stall on the subdominant, with
neighboring motion to V7/IV over the C b pedal. This is the breakthrough moment,
in the poem and song, as the singer-cum-poetic-persona realizes and gives voice
to personal weariness and pain.
A regular pulse in sixteenths emerges in m. 6, and the vocal declamation begins
to normalize. “Was soll all der Schmerz und Lust?” is set with the “trimeter” schema
[a / 1 - 3, 4], and this leads us to the dominant. The thing to observe here is that the
intrusion of recitative is cathartic and transformative; lines 7–8 are set as a repeated
lyrical phrase with broad tonic arpeggiation in the bass. The declamatory rhythm
within the phrases is more varied than in the beginning; the six accented syllables
are set as [1 - 3, 4 / 1, 2, 3 - ], and each phrase spans an octave with an arching
contour. This is song, coming forth after the more “objective” first section and the
sudden breakthrough of recitative subjectivity in the second.23 To put it in narra-
tive terms, the poet gives voice to his particular pain; only after that can he sing in
full voice of the sweet peace that would enter his breast.
“Die Nebensonnen” (Müller): Pure Emotion in Quasi Recitative
There is a similar breakthrough moment in “Die Nebensonnen” (The Mock Suns),

the penultimate song of Winterreise. We considered the change of declamatory
schema in this song in chapter 1. It will be valuable to return to the song here, and
situate the change in the broader contexts of the poem, the interactions between
piano and voice, and the cycle as a whole. Schubert stages the lament in “Die
Nebensonnen” as pure emotion, and in this way it contrasts with other stations in
the Wanderer’s psychological journey.
In lines 1–4 of Müller’s poem, the Wanderer recalls gazing at three steadfast
suns in the sky (see below).24 He then calls out, “Ach, meine Sonnen seid ihr nicht,/
schaut andern doch in’s Angesicht!” (Oh, you are not my suns, you look into others’
faces!) in lines 5–6. He thinks of his own three suns in lines 7–8, two of which have
set, and we interpret these as the eyes of the beloved.25 Finally, he wishes, in lines
9–10, that the third would also set so that he may be in darkness.
Drei Sonnen sah ich am Himmel stehn, I saw three suns in the sky,
Hab’ lang’ und fest sie angesehn; I gazed at them long and hard;
Und sie auch standen da so stier, And they also stood there so steadfast,
Als wollten sie nicht weg von mir. As if unwilling to leave me.
23. See Carl Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, trans. J. Bradford Robinson (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1989), 100.
24. The text is given with Schubert’s “wollten” in place of Müller’s “könnten” in line 4, and other minor
changes as in the song. Schubert, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke, 4.4b:316.
25. This and further interpretations are given in Youens, Retracing a Winter’s Journey, 290–92.
5. Ach, meine Sonnen seid ihr nicht! Ah, you are not my suns!
Schaut Andern doch in’s Angesicht! You look into others’ faces!
Ja neulich hatt’ ich auch wohl drei: Yes, not long ago I also had three:
Nun sind hinab die besten zwei. Now the best two have set.
Ging’ nur die dritt’ erst hinterdrein! If only the third would go down too!
10. Im Dunkeln wird mir wohler sein. I will feel better in the dark.26
The metaphor of the three suns mediates a deep feeling of loss. In comparison,
recollection of the beloved’s eyes is related with self-protective irony in “Rückblick”:
“Und ach, zwei Mädchenaugen glühten!—Da war’s geschehn um dich, Gesell!”
(And ah, a maiden’s two eyes glowed!—Then you were done for, my friend!) The
deep feeling of “Die Nebensonnen” also stands out in relation to “Mut” (Courage),
the song that precedes it in Schubert’s cycle. The Wanderer rejects all feeling in
“Mut”; he determines not to feel his heart’s lament. In “Die Nebensonnen” the
lament breaks through.27
As we observed before, there is a shift from [1, 2 - / 1, 2 - ] declamatory rhythm
in the beginning of the song to [1, 2, 3 / 1 - - ] for the setting of “Ach, meine Sonnen . . .”
(see ex. 1.9). There are other changes as well: a shift to A minor, repetitions of a single
pitch, even eighths, and a texture without piano doubling. This is not secco recitative,
but it is certainly recitative-like. (Feil describes it as “quasi recitative,” something
“‘unformed’ relative to the established form.”)28 The piano doubles the voice through
most of the song, but for the setting of “Ach, meine Sonnen seid ihr nicht” and “schaut
andern doch in’s Angesicht,” it provides a single chord and imitative response. The
Wanderer “speaks” on his own, we might say, and the piano responds in sympathy.
The setting of “Ach, meine Sonnen . . .” starts off the B section of an ABA1 form,
and it is in relation to this form that we may fully understand the song’s drama-
turgy. The first A section is lyrical, within confined musical spaces. The melody
spans only a fourth, from A4 to D5, and it repeats similar rhythmic gestures in each
measure. This melody as a whole repeats three times, first in the piano introduc-
tion (mm. 1–4), then with the first and second couplets (mm. 5–9 and 10–15). In
the latter two instances, there are piano echoes that confirm the cadences: first a
single bar (m. 9) and then two bars (mm. 14–15). Schubert intensifies the emotion
in the second couplet with an F# minor harmonization, but the cadence returns to
A major. The repetitions as a whole convey stasis, a fixity of emotion and attitude
that the poet also describes (“. . . hab’ lang und fest sie angesehn / und sie auch
standen da so stier . . .”; see translation above). The B section then emerges as
something new, after a full cadence and pause (m. 15).
26. The translation includes elements from translations in Miller, The Ring of Words, 255; and Youens,
Retracing a Winter’s Journey, 290.
27. Arnold Feil interprets the three suns as an optical illusion created as the Wanderer gazes upward
through tears. See Feil, Franz Schubert, 127.
28. Feil, Franz Schubert, 125. Feil also provides a subtle reading of the song’s stylized motion. He
observes, for instance, that while the first two measures seem to present a repetition of the same
rhythmic figure, Schubert’s articulation and dynamic marking show that this is to be heard and
performed as a single two-bar gesture.
The moment of quasi recitative seems to be cathartic and transformative; we

get the opening melody again in mm. 20–23, but now beginning in C major (bIII),
with the voice in a higher register. The expressive opening is temporary, however;
the singer-as-Wanderer collapses back to A minor as he thinks of the stars/eyes
that have set (mm. 22–23). We return to the opening melody for the final couplet,
after the Wanderer has had time to reflect on his situation (piano interlude with
Phrygian half cadence, mm. 23–25). We might say that the Wanderer returns to
the musical/emotional place at which he started, in this song—the opening
melody in A major (mm. 26–29), and now we get three measures of echo and
cadence confirmation (mm. 30–32; compare with the two bars in mm. 14–15).
And yet, is it still the same place, experientially? The same melody sung at a dif-
ferent time may be felt differently, and it is only here, at the end, that the Wanderer
expresses his desire for complete darkness. Speaking of repetition in Schubert,
Scott Burnham observes, “Repetition knows no origin, no end—just this: again
and again.”29 And yet, there is something redemptive, if not for the Wanderer then
for those who sing and listen. A redemptive vision concludes Adorno’s essay on
Schubert (which also focuses on repetition): “This is music that we cannot deci-
pher, but it holds up to our blurred, over-brimming eyes the secret of reconcilia-
tion at long last.”30
“Schäfers Klagelied” (Goethe): “Speech” as Narrative Frame
Goethe often wrote poems as parodies, that is, by writing a new text for an exist-
ing tune. “Schäfers Klagelied” is an example. According to a contemporary
account, Goethe heard a Rhenish folksong at a party and then wrote his poem
to the melody.31 The folksong itself is reproduced in the Erk/Böhme folksong
collection, in a version that is likely to be at least similar to what Goethe heard.32
Example 4.7 provides the melody with the original words and Goethe’s parody.
One can see here how the poetic rhythm and meter are conceived in relation to
a given melody and rhythm. The folksong text and Goethe’s poem both feature
classic trimeter quatrains with abcb rhyme schemes and alternating unaccented
and accented endings. (The lines are numbered, and one can use the tune as an
29. Burnham, “Landscape as Music, Landscape as Truth,” 40.

30. Adorno, “Schubert,” 14.
31. See Frederick W. Sternfeld, “The Musical Springs of Goethe’s Poetry,” Musical Quarterly 35, no. 4
(1949): 511–27. The “Schäfers Klagelied” parody is also discussed, together with settings by Reichardt
and Schubert, in Heinrich W. Schwab, Sangbarkeit, Popularität und Kunstlied: Studien zu Lied und
Liedästhetik der mittleren Goethezeit 1770–1814 (Regensburg: Gustav Bosse Verlag, 1965), 59–64
and 116–17. Schubert’s “Nähe des Geliebten” D. 162 is another song that sets a Goethe parody; see
the account in Walter Frisch, “Schubert’s Nähe des Geliebten (D. 162): Transformation of the
Volkston,” in Schubert: Critical and Analytical Studies, ed. Walter Frisch (Lincoln: University of
Nebraska Press, 1986), 175–99.
32. Ludwig Erk and Franz Magnus Böhme, Deutscher Liederhort: Auswahl der vorzüglicheren deutschen
Volkslieder, nach Wort und Weise aus der Vorzeit und Gegenwart gesammelt und erläutert von Ludwig
Erk; nach Erk’s handschriftlichem Nachlasse und auf Grund eigener Sammlung neugearbeitet und
fortgesetzt von Franz M. Böhme (Leipzig: Breitkopf and Härtel, 1963), 2:234–35.
indicator of the poetic meter.) They also both shift freely between disyllabic and
trisyllabic feet. The declamatory schema is a simple [1, 2 / 1 - ], couplets are
sung in phrases, and the stanza in a musical period. The 6/8 time and dotted
rhythms reference the pastoral topic, which Goethe takes up literally with his
shepherd’s lament.
Example 4.7: “Da droben auf jenem Berge,” folksong and Goethe's parody
6
Line 1 Line 2

8
Folksong text: Da dro - ben auf je - nem Ber - ge da steht ein ho - hes
Goethe: Da dro - ben auf je - nem Ber - ge da steh ich tau - send
4
Line 3
Line 4

Haus. Da schau - en wohl al - le Früh mor - gen drei
mal, An mei - nem Sta - be ge - bo - gen und
7

schö - ne Jung - frau - en her - aus.
schau - e hin - ab in das Tal.
Goethe’s poem as a whole consists of six quatrains, all in an analogous poetic

meter and rhyme scheme.
1. Da droben auf jenem Berge Up there on that mountain

Da steh ich tausendmal, I stand a thousand times,
An meinem Stabe gebogen Bowed over my staff
Und schaue hinab in das Tal. And look down into the valley.
2. Dann folg’ ich der weidenden Herde, Then I follow the grazing flock,
Mein Hündchen bewahret mir sie. My little dog protects it for me.
Ich bin herunter gekommen I have come down below
Und weiß doch selber nicht wie. And do not myself know how.
3. Da stehet von schönen Blumen With beautiful flowers
Die ganze Wiese so voll. The whole meadow is so full.
Ich breche sie, ohne zu wissen, I pick them, without knowing
Wem ich sie geben soll. To whom I should give them.
4. Und Regen, Sturm und Gewitter And rain, storm, and thunder
Verpass’ ich unter dem Baum. I avoid under the tree.
Die Türe dort bleibet verschlossen; The door there remains closed;
Doch alles ist leider ein Traum. But all is sadly a dream.
5. Es stehet ein Regenbogen A rainbow stands
Wohl über jenem Haus! arching over that house!
Sie aber ist weggezogen, But she has gone away,
Und weit in das Land hinaus. Far out into the land.
(continued)
6. Hinaus in das Land und weiter, Out into the land and further,
Vielleicht gar über die See. Maybe even across the sea.
Vorüber, ihr Schafe, vorüber! Go on, you sheep, go on!
Dem Schäfer ist gar so weh.33 The shepherd is filled with pain.
The first stanza sets up the first-person narrative and pastoral scene, which is
said to recur “a thousand times.” The following four and a half stanzas relate a typ-
ical pastoral tale with darker reflections at the end of each stanza. The shepherd
comes down to the valley, but he himself does not know how (stanza 2). He picks
flowers, but does not know to whom to give them (stanza 3). There is a door, per-
haps to the beloved’s house, but it is closed, and it is all a dream (stanza 4). Finally,
there is a rainbow, but the beloved has gone away, far away (stanza 5 and the first
couplet of stanza 6). The final couplet then introduces something new to bring the
poem to a close: the shepherd reacts to his own tale and situation reflexively in the
present moment, which also is the moment of our sympathetic reading. Idyllic
discourse, infiltrated by uncharacteristic sadness, yields to a personal lament.34
Schubert sets the poem in an ABCDB1A1 form; thus, the A and B sections
frame the inner C and D sections. Schubert’s 6/8 time and dotted rhythm corre-
spond with the pastoral topic—as in the folksong that was Goethe’s model—but
the C minor key sets a darker mood, at least for stanzas 1 and 6. The B sections are
in Eb major (III) with a turn to G minor at the end, the C section is in Ab major
(VI) with faster piano figuration, and the D section is a storm scene in Ab minor,
setting the fourth stanza. Most of the trimeter lines are declaimed in a normative
fashion, with the [1, 2 / 1 - ] schema. We shall be concerned here with disturbances
in this rhythm, especially in the outer A sections. These disturbances create
moments of direct speechlike expression, and the effect of a reflective conscious-
ness with intensified emotions. We will also find that Schubert alters Goethe’s
poem, twice, to fill in the rhythmic effects that he wants.35
Example 4.8 provides a score for the first strophe (A section). The first couplet
is set in mm. 1–4 with a normal declamatory rhythm with simple chordal support;
annotations show the [1, 2 / 1 -] schema. Schubert then has the singer move directly
on after this couplet, beginning “an meinem Stabe” on beat 2 (m. 4). What a strange
moment this is! The rhythmic shift is subtle, but ever so strong in its expressive
effect. With the new V7/iv chords, articulated in paired upbeats to supplement the
vocal rhythm, the momentary mf marking, and the singer’s D b upper neighbor, it
is like a sudden pang in the heart. To accommodate the shift, Schubert adds a syl-
lable to Goethe’s line; in place of Goethe’s “An méinem Stábe gebógen,” Schubert
writes “An méinem Stábe híngebógen.” The four accented syllables are set in an
upbeat-oriented tetrameter schema, [2 / 1, 2 / 1 -]. And what does the added syl-
lable mean for the lyric self? It adds direction to the posture: he is bowed down

34. On idyllic and lyric discourse and temporality, see Wellbery, The Specular Moment, chap. 1.
35. Richard Capell notes rhythmic irregularities in “Schäfers Klagelied,” anticipating a number of the
observations made here. See Capell, Schubert’s Songs, 51–52. See also Hallmark, “On Schubert
Reading Poetry”; and Schwab, Sangbarkeit, Popularität und Kunstlied, 62.
over his staff. We can hear an analogous directionality in Schubert’s declamation

and piano rhythm: in a text-music blend, we can say that the singer-and-pianist-
cum-shepherd lean onto the downbeat-cum-shepherd’s-staff. It is this kind of
joined expressive and representational effect that is so magical in Schubert.
Example 4.8: “Schäfers Klagelied,” D. 121, mm. 1–10

Mäßig (M. M. = 120)
A (stanza 1)

[1 2 1 -] [1 2
6
8
Da dro - ben auf je - nem Ber - ge, da steh’ ich tau - send -
6
8
#
6
8
1] [2 1 2 1 -] [1 2
4

mal, an mei - nem Sta - be hin - ge - bo - gen, und schaue hin - ab in das

, #

8
1

-]

Tal.

''
'
# '
'
'
'

'
'
'
The shift is momentary; we are back to normal declamation for the final line of
the stanza, “und schaue hinab in das Tal” (mm. 7–8). The piano interlude then
takes us quickly to E b major, as if to say “here is where the tale begins,” and the B
section is set with a new flowing piano figuration. It is thus the A section on its
own, strictly speaking, that forms the outer part of the narrative frame.
Example 4.9: “Schäfers Klagelied,” mm. 47–61
47 A1 (stanza 6)
6
8

Hin - aus in das Land und wei - ter, viel -
6
8
#
6
8
50 [2 1 2 1 -]

leicht gar ü - ber die See. Vor - ü - ber, ihr Scha - fe, nur vor - ü - ber! dem

,

54

[2 1 2 1 -]

Schä - fer ist gar so weh; vor - ü - ber, ihr Scha - fe, nur vor - ü - ber! dem

cresc. , ,

cresc.

58
&
"
Schä - fer ist gar so weh.
&

#

-
The momentary rhythmic shift in the A section is repeated and intensified in

the A1 section; see example 4.9.36 We return to the key, melody, and chordal accom-
paniment from the opening of the song. This is one of those moments of “struc-
tural polyrhythm,” if you will; the musical return coincides with what is—in the
poem—a continuation of thoughts from the previous stanza. The declamatory
shift, however, falls at exactly the right moment; it marks the shift from idyllic nar-
rative to personal lament (see the annotations in mm. 51–53). Schubert needs an
extra poetic foot here as well, to fit the melody, and he adds the emotive “nur”:
“Vorüber, ihr Schafe! nur vorüber” (Go on, you sheep, just go on). The emotive
outcry is brief, as in the opening, but here the singer repeats the couplet. The sec-
ond time, in mm. 55–56, the singer repeats the <C, Db, C> figure as the right hand
ascends in register, adding volume and vehemence. The left-hand octaves resolve
to F only the second time, in m. 57 (i.e., not in m. 56). This is the crucial moment,
the moment that focuses all of the shepherd’s pent-up pain, the pain of “a thousand
times” (stanza 1).
It is all very quaint, one might say, all in the Arcadian mode, and yet the inten-
sity of emotion takes it to another level. The shepherd—speaking reflexively of
himself—“is filled with pain.” David Wellbery observes that speech acts in Goethe’s
poetry are set up as authentic utterances; they are “embedded in the speaker’s
existential situation and marked, therefore, by the urgency of the speaker’s care
(Sorge) in the broadest sense of the term. . . . The subject of enunciation is no longer
a social role [as in the idyll]; it is, rather, a self.”37 This is precisely the effect of
Schubert’s song, certainly more so than in the unadorned folk tune, much as
Goethe himself might have preferred the latter.38
“Gretchen am Spinnrade” (Goethe): Repetition and Desire
Heinrich Schwab has observed, “ ‘Gretchen am Spinnrade’ begins immediately with

a restless circular movement; and the listener is carried along with this musical
torrent to the final moment, without once being released.”39 In all the discussions
of the song, however, the mechanisms that generate this “musical torrent” have yet
36. There are also brief moments of irregularity in the B and C sections: an extra bar in m. 17 to depict
the Wanderer’s memory lapse and a [1, 2 / 1][2 / 1 - / 1 -] schema paring for the linked lines “Ich
breche sie, ohne zu wissen, / wem ich sie geben soll” (mm. 25–29).
37. Wellbery, The Specular Moment, 12.
38. Schubert published “Schäfers Klagelied” in his Op. 3 collection together with three other Goethe
settings: “Meeres Stille,” “Heidenröslein,” and “Jägers Abendlied.” The declamation in “Jägers
Abendlied” is particularly interesting; Schubert sets it as a strophic song, but the declamation shifts
from one foot/bar in the first couplet to two feet/bar in the second. Schubert also sets the seven
poetic feet of the first couplet in seven measures; he does not expand the phrase to an even eight
measures. For a discussion of poetic and musical rhythms in “Jägers Abendlied,” and a comparison
with Reichardt’s radically simple setting, see Walther Dürr, Das deutsche Sololied im 19. Jahrhundert:
Untersuchungen zu Sprache und Musik (Wilhelmshaven: Heinrichshofen, 1984), 46–62.
39. Schwab, Sangbarkeit, Popularität und Kunstlied, 173.
to be specified precisely.40 We will find, first of all, that while the poem is organized
in regular couplets and quatrains, there is variety in the flow from line to line. This
variety will be interpreted as a feature of Gretchen’s speech, which reflects her
emotions and state of mind. We will then find that Schubert responds closely to the
syntactic flow of the poetry. It is not that he always matches the syntactic organi-
zation with musical structure; rather he creates musical processes that work in
parallel with the poetic ones. This is polyrhythm in Nägeli’s sense; the rhythms of
the melodic line and accompaniment “run parallel with” those of the poetic
syntax.41 The musical analysis will focus on the articulation of a two-bar hyper-
meter, ascending sequences with two-bar segments, four-bar phrases, and the
emergence of a strong four-bar hypermeter at the end of the song. Musical syntax
accelerates and disintegrates leading into the famous climax of “sein Kuß,” and it
coheres over a long span toward the end of the song.
Poetic Analysis
The poem is a complete scene in part I of Goethe’s Faust, with the stage direction
“Gretchen’s room. Gretchen alone at the spinning-wheel.” Faust, at this point, has
ignited Gretchen’s passion, and she is profoundly unsettled. Unlike other Goethe
poems that Schubert set, this one is not sung in the drama. Schubert’s song, how-
ever, takes on a life of its own. One of the remarkable things is that it stages a rad-
ical unsettling of domesticity at the outset of the Biedermeier period, which was to
celebrate domestic contentment.42
The text for Goethe’s poem is provided below with annotations to the right.
One notices first of all the recurring refrain in stanzas 1, 4, and 8, “Meine Ruh ist
hin / Mein Herz ist schwer; / Ich finde sie nimmer / Und nimmermehr” (My peace
is gone, / My heart is heavy; / I shall find them never / and nevermore).
1. Meine Ruh ist hin, My peace is gone,

Mein Herz ist schwer; My heart is heavy; REFRAIN
40. Features of the present analysis have been anticipated in Hans Költzsch, “Metrische Analyse von
Schuberts ‘Gretchen am Spinnrade,’” Zeitschrift für Musikwissenschaft 8 (1925–26): 371–75. Other
notable discussions of the poem and song can be found in Lawrence Kramer, Music and Poetry: The
Nineteenth Century and After (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984), 150–55; Charles
Rosen, “Schubert’s Inflections of Classical Form,” in The Cambridge Companion to Schubert, ed.
Christopher H. Gibbs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 72–77; Seelig, “The Literary
Context,” 6–8; and Jack M. Stein, Poem and Music in the German Lied from Gluck to Hugo Wolf
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971), 71–72.
41. Thrasybulos Georgiades’ notion of “lyric as musical structure” also applies here since there is a close
coordination of poetic syntax and musical structure. See Georgiades, “Lyric as Musical Structure,”
translated from Schubert: Musik und Lyrik (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1967), 17–31.
Georgiades’s own analysis of “Gretchen am Spinnrade” is not as informative in this regard; see
Schubert: Musik und Lyrik, 78–83.
42. For more on Schubert and the Biedermeier period in German cultural history, see David Gramit,
“Schubert and the Biedermeier: The Aesthetics of Johann Mayrhofer’s Heliopolis,” Music and Letters
74, no. 3 (1993): 355–82.
Ich finde sie nimmer I shall find them never

Und nimmermehr. And nevermore.
2. W\o ich ihn nicht hab’ Where I do not have him
Ist mir das Grab, Is the grave for me, INTROSPECTION AND
Die ganze Welt The entire world AILMENTS . . .
Ist mir vergällt. Is spoiled for me.
3. Mein armer Kopf My poor head
Ist mir verrückt, Is crazed,
Mein armer Sinn My poor mind
Ist mir zerstückt. Is torn apart.
5. Nach ihm nur schau’ ich Only for him, I gaze
Zum Fenster hinaus, Out the window, ATTENTION ON FAUST
Nach ihm nur geh’ ich Only for him, I go
Aus dem Haus. Out of the house.
6. Sein hoher Gang, His lofty gait,
Sein’ edle Gestalt, His noble figure,
Seines Mundes Lächeln, His mouth’s smile,
Seiner Augen Gewalt, His eyes’ power,
7. Und seiner Rede And his speech’s
Zauberfluß, Magical flow,
Sein Händedruck, His handclasp,
Und ach, sein Kuß! And ah, his kiss!
9. Mein Busen drängt My bosom yearns
Sich nach ihm hin. for him. FANTASY OF
Ach dürft’ ich fassen Ah, if I could grasp SEXUAL
Und halten ihn, And hold him, FULFILLMENT . . .
10. Und küssen ihn And kiss him
So wie ich wollt,’ As I wish,
An seinen Küssen On his kisses
Vergehen sollt’!43 I should fade away!44
Each episode, following the refrain, develops in a new direction. In stanzas 2–3
Gretchen focuses on her own ailments. Faust is mentioned only briefly as the

44. The translation includes elements from a translation by Lynn Thompson, on “The Lied and Art Song
Texts Page,” http://www.recmusic.org/lieder/ (accessed 8/17/07).
source of her troubles. In stanzas 5–7 her thoughts turn to Faust in a series of
increasingly sensuous and unsettling images. The refrain of stanza 8 then sets up
the final section, in which Gretchen feels her yearning in all its force. As Lawrence
Kramer observes, “The poem ends with an image of passion, indeed of the ‘fading
(Vergehen) of the subject’ into the other that comes with sexual fulfillment.”45 The
quatrains themselves are short; they consist entirely of dimeter lines. What will be
of special interest, therefore, is the way Goethe connects lines and couplets with
each other over the course of the poem.
Stanzas 2–3 are the most straightforward: each couplet consists of a complete
statement with subject, verb, and object. In comparison, the refrain consists of two
statements in lines 1 and 2 and a statement plus supplement in lines 3 and 4. Most
interesting in this regard, however, is the progression that occurs in stanzas 5–7; see
the text and analysis in table 4.1. Thus, stanza 5 has couplet statements, like stanzas
2–3, and the syntactical rhythm then accelerates, with an independent clause in
each line of stanza 6. There is a momentary broadening in lines 1–2 of stanza 7 as
“Und seiner Rede” flows over into “Zauberfluß.” Then we get a single statement for
“Sein Händedruck” and a caesura, the only one in the entire poem, separating the
two poetic feet of “Und ach, sein Kuß!” Overall, there is a progressive compression
of discourse. The only break is with the expansive couplet “Und seiner Rede /
Zauberfluß” (stanza 7, lines 1–2); in this moment Gretchen’s poetic voice reflects
that which it describes, the “magical flow” of Faust’s speech.
There is also a progressive breakdown of discourse in stanzas 5–7, which
reflects Gretchen’s state of mind. Gretchen first relates her actions in syntactically
complete couplets (stanza 5). She then describes Faust’s attributes in a series of
one-line clauses (stanza 6). Within stanza 6, there is a shift: first we get a descriptive
term followed by the physical attribute, and then we get paired attributes, with the
second as a feature of the first. Another pair of attributes is given in the first couplet
of stanza 7, and “Sein Händedruck” (his handclasp) then marks the moment of
Table 4.1: Poetic Rhythm in Stanzas 5–7 of “Gretchen am Spinnrade”
Stanza Poem Lines / Syntactic Unit Analysis
5. Nach ihm nur schau’ ich 2 Couplet Statements

Zum Fenster hinaus,
Nach ihm nur geh' ich 2
Aus dem Haus.
6. Sein hoher Gang, 1 Descriptive term—attribute
Sein’ edle Gestalt, 1
Seines Mundes Lächeln, 1 Paired attributes
Seiner Augen Gewalt, 1
7. Und seiner Rede 2
Zauberfluss,
Sein Händedruck, 1 Physical contact (no descriptive
term or secondary attribute)
Und ach, sein Kuss! ½+½
45. Kramer, Music and Poetry, 153.

physical contact. The clause has only one attribute and no descriptive terms; there
is a loss of words, it seems that the effect is too powerful. Finally, the kiss leaves its
emotive trace in her exclamation, “und ach.”
The fascinating thing then, with implications for Schubert’s setting, is that
stanzas 9–10 have the opposite syntactical logic. Rather than a breakdown of
discourse, we get couplets coming together in an extended statement. The first
couplet in stanza 9 is independent, but the second couplet then combines with
all of stanza 10 in a single six-line statement. Notice especially how the second
couplet of line 9 flows directly through to the first couplet of line 10, in an
extended conditional statement: “Ach dürft’ ich fassen / Und halten ihn, / Und
küssen ihn, / So wie ich wollt’” (Ah, if I could grasp / And hold him / And kiss
him, / As I wish). Then we get the resultant clause, in the final couplet: “An seinen
Küssen / Vergehen sollt’!” (On his kisses I should fade away!). (In the earliest
form of the play, the Urfaust, stanzas 9–10 are combined in a single eight-line
stanza.)46 This is, in fact, the only moment in the poem where a well-formed
syntax spans beyond a single couplet and individual stanza. It is also the moment
when Gretchen gives voice not to her own disturbed state, as in the first episode,
and not to memories of Faust, as in the second, but to her pressing desire for
him. The energies of desire are focused and directed, and they are evident in the
poetic syntax, which is a feature of Gretchen’s voice. They are also reflected in the
musical syntax of Schubert’s setting.
Musical Analysis
Let us first consider the famous spinning figuration in Schubert’s setting (see
ex. 4.10 (web) ). As throughout Schubert’s songs, the point is not that the figu-
ration sounds like the thing it represents but that it creates a sense of motion like
that of its object. The layered rhythmic motion corresponds with the layered
motion of spinning—the wheel itself spinning rapidly, the up-and-down motion
of the foot on the treadle, and the spinner’s hands rhythmically feeding loose fibers.
The D minor right-hand figuration begins on ^3 (a member of the tonic harmony
but less stable than either ^1 or ^5), and it cycles back each time to ^3. It moves
quickly over the top (F-A in an eighth) and more gradually through the bottom
(F-E-D-E in two eighths). One imagines this as an assisted form of motion, differ-
ent from the rapid descent and slower ascent of a pendulum under gravity. The
tick-tick motion of the left-hand eighths provides an added kinetic impulse to
each beat. Imagine how different the feel would be with continuous eighths or
pairs of eighths in other rhythmic configurations. The dotted quarter at 72 bpm is
on the slow side for a tactus, and thus corresponds with Schubert’s tempo indica-
tion, Nicht zu geschwind (not too fast).47
46. Seelig, “The Literary Context,” 7.

47. The original manuscript, dated October 19, 1814, has the marking Etwas schnell (somewhat fast).
Schubert may have been thinking of the sixteenth motion with this marking, or he may initially
have conceived the song at a faster tempo. See Schubert, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke, IV.1:xx
and 10.
The figuration itself, in its initial D minor form, is static and monotonous; it
does not differentiate beats at higher levels. The bass Ds articulate the notated
downbeats, but they are also fixed. The left hand adds patterning at the two-bar
level starting in mm. 3–4 (compare with mm. 5–6). Left-hand A-D gestures in
measures 4 and 6 suggest the down and up motion of Gretchen’s foot on the
treadle.48 Harmonic changes then begin to occur with each downbeat from m. 7 on
(until the refrain comes back), and there is harmonic patterning at higher levels.
To get a sense for the basic declamatory and harmonic rhythms, we turn first
to the setting of stanza 2 in mm. 13–21. The declamatory rhythm is straightfor-
ward: accented syllables land on the downbeat of every measure, dimeter lines are
set in measure pairs, and the couplets in four-measure phrases. Unaccented sylla-
bles at the beginnings of each line are set as pickups to even-numbered bars, and
the accented line endings arrive on downbeats of odd-numbered bars. This in itself
generates a two-bar hypermeter, as shown by the annotation. (The 2s refer to a
“2-layer” with the notated measure as the unit.) The harmonic rhythm reinforces
the two-bar hypermeter. Four-bar phrases organized as V-I-V-I (or V-i-V-i in
minor) recur throughout the song. The iv-i-V-i of mm. 14–17 is an alternate model,
and later in the song we will find V-I progressions forming two-bar segments in
rising sequences. This basic model thus emphasizes the two-bar spans and the
dimetric verses, with couplets in four-bar phrases or rising sequences.
Hypermeter in the refrain is different: it is notably irregular. The setting of
“Meine Ruh’ ist hin, / mein Herz ist schwer” is straightforward, and it implies a
duple hypermeter (see the annotations). Schubert then has the singer repeat “ich
finde” in the second couplet, extending it to 3+2 poetic feet: “ich fínde, ich fínde, sie
nímmer / und nímmerméhr.” One can continue to sustain the original two-bar
hypermeter, shown with 2a markings, but dynamically accented diminished sev-
enths introduce counterstresses in mm. 8 and 10. Measures 8 and 10 may in fact
usurp the role of hypermetric downbeats, forming a “2b” layer, but one is then con-
founded when there is no harmonic change at m. 12. However one hears this, the
hypermeter is unsettled, as is Gretchen herself. (Költzsch offers another interpreta-
tion, which follows Goethe’s text and Schubert’s alteration. He hears an expanded
three-bar span in mm. 7–9, corresponding with the three poetic feet of Schubert’s
“ich finde, ich finde sie nimmer” and a two-bar span in mm. 10–11, corresponding
with the two poetic feet of “und nimmer mehr.”)49
The story of the second episode (stanzas 5–7) is then one of intensification,
acceleration, and breakdown, in close contact with the poetic processes. It begins
like the first by establishing clear hypermetric and phrase regularities (see ex. 4.11
(web) ). The initial phrase of the second episode, in fact, is essentially the same
as that of the first episode (compare “nach ihm nur schau’ ich . . .” in mm. 43–46
48. The original manuscript has the two bass A-D gestures occurring consecutively with arrivals on the
downbeat and second beat of m. 4. Schubert arrived at the form given here with the third occur-
rence of the refrain (in the original manuscript). The score given here corresponds with a copy sent
to Goethe in 1816 and the first printing from 1821. See Schubert, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke,
IV.1:xx and 10–19.
49. Költzsch, “Metrische Analyse,” 373–75.
with “Wo ich ihn nicht hab’ . . .” in mm. 14–17). Schubert repeats this phrase for the
second couplet of stanza 5, and he thus matches poetic parallelism (“Nach ihm nur
schau’ ich . . . Nach ihm nur geh ich . . .”) with musical repetition (mm. 43–46 and
47–50). When the one-line statements begin, in stanza 6, Schubert does not
respond immediately with tighter musical syntax. He responds, rather, to the poetic
content, the idea of a noble and lofty presence. Gretchen sings “Sein hoher Gang,
sein’ edle Gestalt” with a broad phrase in F major. It begins with a repetition of
tonic harmony (this is the only instance of a I-I-V-I phrase in the song) and con-
tinues over a tonic pedal. This is also the moment where the tick-tick of eighth
notes in the left hand ceases. The wheel continues to spin, but as Rosen observes,
“our consciousness of the spinning—or rather, Gretchen’s—recedes into the
background as the memories of Faust grow more vivid.”50
The musical intensification and acceleration then begin in mm. 55–56, with the
setting of “seines Mundes Lächeln . . .” We get a rising sequence in two-bar seg-
ments to match the single-line units of poetic syntax (see annotations mm. 55–60).
The vocal line for “seiner Rede” then spills over into “Zauberfluß,” as in the poem.
The word “Rede” spreads over m. 60 in even dotted quarters, and “Zauberfluß” con-
tinues with a beguiling chromatic descent and repetition of V-I in Bb major.
The cessation of the sixteenth figuration as Gretchen recalls “sein Kuß” may be
the most famous event in all of Schubert’s songs. The music is a literal staging, so
much so that an actual staging would be tautological. The chromatically rising
diminished sevenths (mm. 67–68) are certainly significant, as is the upward reso-
lution of A to Bb in m. 68, a “resolution” that intensifies the dissonance rather than
relaxing it. The startup of the spinning wheel after the crisis is no less striking.
Downbeat stallings on the ninth (A/Bb) perform the combined physical and
mental anguish of restarting mundane activity after a moment of crisis. The effect
of the climax itself, however, depends on aspects of rhythm and meter as much as
harmony and voice leading. “Sein Händedruck, und ach, sein Kuß!” are the only
words in the song that are not set with the regular declamatory rhythm of one
accented syllable/bar. Thus, Gretchen’s breathlessness disrupts the declamatory
rhythm even before the spinning stops. Example 4.12 is a recomposition of the
passage with a normalized declamatory rhythm. “Sein Händedruck” is set with a
pickup to “m. 63” and an arrival in “m. 64.” In Schubert’s version, “Händedruck”
arrives on the downbeat of m. 64, a bar late, so to speak, and the word itself is
compressed within the measure. Schubert then spreads “und ach, sein Kuß” over
four measures (compare with mm. 65–66 in ex. 4.12). The rhythm and linear
motion of the piano figuration is also significant. Bb-A-G#-A motion in the right
hand, mm. 62–66, articulates the dotted-quarter layer and two-bar cycles (see cir-
cled pitches in ex. 4.11). As it turns out, this is the only moment in the song where
the right hand moves with the dotted-quarter beat. (An analogy can be made here
with the perception of a spinning wheel: as the wheel slows down, one sees its
motion more clearly.) Notice also that the Bb-A-G#-A cycle begins “early” in rela-
tion to the established hypermeter. Hypermetric downbeats fall on odd-numbered
bars from m. 43 on. The cycle beginning on m. 62 follows directly after the
50. Rosen, “Schubert’s Inflections of Classical Form,” 73.

hypermetric downbeat of m. 61, and it forces a hypermetric reinterpretation.51 This

hypermetric shift also contributes to the feeling of compression and acceleration,
leading ultimately to the breakdown.
Example 4.12: “Gretchen am Spinrade,” re-composition of the climax

61

68

Zau - ber fluß, sein Hän - de -
6
8
6
8
.
64
&

drück, und ach, sein Kuß!
&

. . .&-

.
To summarize the second episode: there are four-bar phrases from m. 43, two-
bar sequence segments from m. 55, and then motion by dotted quarters from m.
62. The musical acceleration is analogous to and runs parallel with the compres-
sion and acceleration of poetic discourse, described above.
Finally, we may consider the third episode, beginning with the setting of stanza
9 in m. 85 (see ex. 4.13 (web) ). Musical syntax coheres over a long span, just as
the poetic syntax does, but not at first. Schubert begins this episode with a rising
sequence, like the one in the second episode (see annotations, mm. 85–92).
Sequence segments emphasize the two-bar periodicity and the individual poetic
lines, but not the poetic couplets. In other words, the rising sequence responds to
the energy of Gretchen’s passion, but it does not match the poetic syntax. The point,
however, is not simply that Schubert chose to go with one element (rising passion)
51. Schering takes note of the reinterpretation, and he analyzes mm. 62–68 as a four-bar phrase in 12/8.
Measures 62–63 are bar 1, mm. 64–65 are bar 2, mm. 66–67 are bar 3, and m. 68 with the fermata is
bar 4. See Arnold Schering, Die metrisch-rhythmische Grundgestalt unserer Choralmelodien;
Grundsätzliches zur einheitlichen Motierung unserer Kirchenlieder (Halle: Verlag des Hilfswerks für
Musikwissenschaft der Unversität Halle-Wittenberg, 1924), as cited and discussed in Költzsch,
“Metrische Analyse,” 371–72.
over another (discourse organized in couplets). Rather, the discrepancy should be

understood as a feature of Gretchen’s voice. The intensity of the passion, in
Schubert’s interpretation, is such that it overrides syntactical coherence.
“Polyrhythm” is a feature of Gretchen’s voice, which “speaks” in poetic couplets but
“sings” with a passion that cuts across the couplets.
Schubert sets the last stanza twice, first as a culmination of the sequence (mm.
93–100) and then as a denouement (mm. 101–12). Whereas the sequence culmi-
nation follows the V-I-V-I phrase model from earlier in the song, the denouement
presents something new—a progression leading with incredible rhythmic energy
to the cadence. It is this progression that forms a musical analogy for the organized
and directed syntax of Goethe’s stanzas 9–10. The denouement presents an eight-
bar phrase, the first and only such phrase in the song, with a four-bar extension
(mm. 101–108 and 109–12). The phrase uniquely prolongs the subdominant with
a voice exchange and passing 6/4s (see annotations, mm. 101–105). Metrically, the
two-bar layer is still evident, but it is strongly organized by a four-bar hypermeter.
One may count or conduct four-bar units through much of the song, but the
feeling of a four-bar hypermeter is stronger here than anywhere else.
Why would this be so? There are several reasons. First, this is the only place in
the song where the bass articulates the dotted-half (bar) layer with linear motion.
We may follow the bass motion and feel the larger patterns metrically: <G-A-
Bb-A / G-A-A-D / G-A-A-D>.52 Second, we hear the four-bar units within the
larger frame of the eight-bar phrase, extended to twelve bars. In this sense, the
four-bar units are like individual measures that combine to form a phrase. Finally,
the vocal line articulates the twelve measures in a set of related 2+2 bar patterns.
We may represent the two-bar phrase segments of the vocal line in the form aa1a-
bab1. This organization contributes to the feeling of hypermeter, directed motion,
and focused desire.
The musical structure, a well-formed phrase spanning twelve measures and
leading to a definitive cadence, is directly analogous to the poetic structure, a
thought that spans three couplets and leads to its goal (end of the poem and imag-
ined sexual fulfillment). The broad syntax and directed energy are unique in both
domains in the song, and they contrast strongly with the breakdown of musical
and poetic discourse leading into the first climax. The broad twelve-measure
phrase (8+4), however, sets a single stanza. It does not coincide with the full state-
ment in Goethe’s poem, which begins from the second couplet of stanza 9. Schubert
was well aware of this, it seems, for he alters Goethe’s final stanza in the denoue-
ment to make up for the discrepancy. In place of “Und küssen ihn, so wie ich
wollt’” (And kiss him, as I wish; stanza 10, lines 1–2), Schubert writes “O könnt’ ich
ihn küssen, so wie ich wollt” (Oh if I could kiss him, as I wish; mm. 101–104).
Schubert thus re-forms the final stanza in its second iteration to create a self-con-
tained syntactical unit, which then matches the directed musical phrase. Schubert
could have set Goethe’s last three couplets, from “Ach, dürft ich fassen und halten
52. The bass figure <G-A-Bb-A> provides a chromatically altered, rhythmically augmented inversion of
the <Bb-A-G#-A> figure leading up to the climax of “sein Kuß” (mm. 62–65). The right hand mean-
while has <Bb-A-G-A> in mm. 101–104, even closer to the <Bb-A-G#-A> figure of mm. 62–65.
ihn,” with the three four-bar phrase segments of mm. 101–112. The obvious awk-
wardness of such a setting illustrates the cognitive link between musical and verbal
syntax. Musically, the third phrase segment (mm. 109–12) provides reiteration,
rhetorical emphasis, and closure. We do not understand the final couplet, however,
as a reiteration of thoughts from earlier couplets. It itself is the goal, and it wel-
comes reiteration and rhetorical emphasis as in Schubert’s setting.
The phrase “O könnt’ ich ihn küssen, so wie ich wollt,’ an seinen Küssen verge-
hen sollt,’” which should still resonate in the reader’s ear, may be called Beethovenian
in its teleological energy, but Schubert concludes the song with repetition, the
beginning of the refrain once again.53 In this regard, he may be heard to compose
not only against the grain of Beethoven, but also against the grain of that other
cultural giant, Goethe. (Goethe’s poem ends with stanza 10, not a return of the
refrain.) And what is it that is repeated? It is material that consists almost entirely
of repetition, a cycling figure that returns again and again. Gretchen has gone far
in her emotional journey, and yet she remains in the same place, at the spinning
wheel. Repetition generates motion, which then yields to circularity and repetition.
Nonetheless, within it all there is a deepening of reflective understanding and
desire, a self-aware form of subjectivity that is unique to Schubert and his time.
53. For discussions of this return, see Seelig, “The Literary Context,” 7; and Stein, Poem and Music in the
German Lied, 72.
CHAPTER Five
Schumann: Doubling and Reverberation
In Schubert’s songs, as we discovered in chapter 4, the reflective moment is one of

intensified emotion. The subject confronts the full intensity of his or her situation
and feelings: the erotic desire that arises with the memory of a kiss in “Gretchen am
Spinnrade” or the depth of loss in “Die Nebensonnen,” “Schäfers Klagelied,” and
countless other songs. The moment of self-confrontation can then be embedded in
an interiorized drama, all within the miniature frame of the Lied. Reflective con-
sciousness in Schumann is different; it is typically an ironic, distancing stance. It is
distancing, paradoxically, because the subject is so completely ensconced within
itself. As Roland Barthes puts it, “Schumann is truly the musician of solitary inti-
macy, of the amorous and imprisoned soul that speaks to itself.”1 In “Ein Jüngling
liebt ein Mädchen” (A boy loves a girl), Op. 48 No. 11, Schumann sets the bland
conventionality of the tale with purposefully banal music, and frustrated anger
emerges with the insistent offbeats of the postlude.2 The poet stands outside of him-
self, but is simultaneously imprisoned within. In “Intermezzo,” Op. 39 No. 2, a song
resonates deep in the poet’s heart and flies out to the beloved. Self-confrontation of
the kind we found in Schubert is no longer possible because there is a prior affinity
between the depths within and outward distance.3
Vocal melody reverberates in the piano in Schumann’s songs, and it is this
reverberation, among other things, that creates effects of “solitary intimacy”
(Barthes). The singer’s lyric voice with words resonates in the piano’s lyric voice
without words, or vice versa; this creates an expansion and deepening of inward-
ness, a resonant space within the self. The expansive inwardness is also a place
from which the poetic persona can reach outward to the beloved, to heaven, to
1. Roland Barthes, “Loving Schumann,” in The Responsibility of Forms: Critical Essays on Music, Art,
and Representation, trans. Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 1985), 293.
2. Charles Rosen observes that “Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen” is, “in its angular and banal insistence,
a deliberately bad song, but magnificent in its place.” See Charles Rosen, The Romantic Generation
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995), 58.
3. See Yonatan Malin, “Metric Displacement Dissonance and Romantic Longing in the German Lied,”
Music Analysis 25, no. 3 (2006): 259.
123
home, and to rest. “Im wunderschönen Monat Mai” (In the wonderfully beautiful
month of May), Op. 48 No. 1, presents a classic instance. The singer and pianist are
in phase with each other for the first couplet, “Im wunderschönen Monat Mai, / als
alle Knospen sprangen” (In the wonderfully beautiful month of May, / when all the
buds were bursting). The pianist then reaches up for out-of-phase doublings in the
second couplet, “da ist in meinem Herzen / die Liebe aufgegangen” (then within
my heart / love broke forth); see example 2.9.4 The voice echoes in top pitches of
the piano arpeggios in this latter couplet, and the piano sustains the pitches as the
voice moves on. The piano also anticipates and then reaches beyond the voice, as
in the <G, F#> of m. 10 and <G#, F#> in m. 12. This is the moment of longing,
when love breaks forth from within the heart and reaches out toward the beloved.
Many have commented on the interdependence of vocal and piano melody in
Schumann’s songs.5 Here we consider them as reverberant doublings of a single
voice, which may also split to become separate voices. Brinkmann, following Adorno,
has identified such doublings as a form of “imprecise unison” (ungenaues Unisono).
As Brinkmann describes it, with reference to Schumann’s “Zwielicht” (Twilight),
Op. 39 No. 10, “The singing voice and higher piano voice are identical and not iden-
tical at the same time. They run parallel in unison (or in octaves, depending on the
performing voice) and are nonetheless separated by minute differences, which result
in friction and sometimes sounded dissonances.”6 Here, in particular, we will explore
rhythmic features of this “imprecise unison”—what the minute differences are, how
they evolve and change over the course of a song, and how they interact with hyper-
meter, phrase rhythm, poetic rhythm, and expressive meanings.
We will explore doublings and reverberation in songs from Dichterliebe, Op. 48,
and the Liederkreis, Op. 39, both written in 1840. Schumann wrote a few songs early
on, in 1827–28, and then came back to the genre only in 1840, the year of his marriage
to Clara Wieck. That year is commonly referred to as Schumann’s “year of song”; he
wrote more than 125 songs in 1840. Romantic feelings played into this outpouring,
but there were also practical considerations: with song publications, Schumann
hoped to reach a broader public and achieve financial success. He was successful in
this regard, and the songs of 1840 have been staples of the repertoire ever since.7
We will also consider effects of regularity and irregularity in Schumann’s songs,
including the late songs. The late songs, from 1849 to 1852, introduce a new style
5. Charles Rosen comments on the interdependence of vocal and piano melody in “Im wunderschönen
Monat Mai”; see Rosen, The Romantic Generation, 41–48. Thym observes more generally,
“Schumann’s significance as a song composer rests largely on establishing a new interdependence of
voice and piano.” See Jürgen Thym, “Schumann: Reconfiguring the Lied,” in The Cambridge
Companion to the Lied, ed. James Parsons (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 127.
6. Reinhold Brinkmann, Schumann und Eichendorff: Studien zum Liederkreis Opus 39 (Munich: Edition
Text + Kritik, 1997), 60.
7. For a general reference on Schumann’s songs, see Jon Finson, Robert Schumann: The Book of Songs
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007). The biographical context for the songs of 1840 is
presented on pp. 18–21. There is a legion of other literature on the songs from 1840, which Finson
succinctly summarizes. Sources that are of particular relevance here are Brinkmann, Schumann und
Eichendorf f; David Ferris, Schumann’s Eichendorff Liederkreis and the Genre of the Romantic Cycle
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2000); Rufus Hallmark, The Genesis of Schumann’s Dichterliebe:
CHAPTER 5 Schumann: Doubling and Reverberation 125
of vocal writing, more outwardly dramatic, rhythmically fluid, and distant from
the traditional volkslied. Schumann’s turn to a more dramatic style sets the stage,
so to speak, for developments in the later nineteenth-century Lied.
Heine and Eichendorff are the two poets most commonly associated with
Schumann’s song output—Heine as the poet of Dichterliebe and the Liederkreis,
Op. 24, Eichendorff as the poet of the Liederkreis, Op. 39.8 Writing in 1843,
Schumann himself indicates that both had contributed to a “new German poetic
school,” and this school, according to Schumann, set the stage for developments in
Lied composition, a “more artistic and thoughtful kind of song.”9 Of the two,
Eichendorff is the more quintessentially Romantic. There are frequent images of
forest rustlings and longing for the distant beloved, home, or transcendence. As
noted in chapter 3, there is also a radicalization of language in Eichendorff ’s poetry,
and a suspension of ego. The “chaotic surging” that Adorno identifies in Eichendorff
is reproduced and intensified in Schumann’s settings, as in Hensel’s. (See the
discussion of Hensel’s “Nachtwanderer” setting in chap. 3.) Heine’s language is
more conventional, but the Romantic conventions are put to ironic use. Did
Schumann understand Heine’s irony? It seems that he did, but he chose, at times,
to soften its edges.10 In 1835, with Heine and others in mind, Schumann wrote, “At
certain moments in eternity poetry has donned the mask of irony so as to conceal
its pain-racked face from the public gaze. Maybe a friendly hand will one day untie
the mask and remove it; and maybe by then the tumultuous tears will have turned
into pearls.”11
Poems by Heine and Eichendorff generally adhere to volkstümlich forms, with
regular trimeter or tetrameter quatrains.12 The rhyme patterns abab and abcb are
common, as are alternating unaccented and accented line endings.13 Heine attrib-
uted his metrical style in the Lyrisches Intermezzo to what he had learned from
Wilhelm Müller (the poet of Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin and Winterreise).14
A Source Study (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1979); Beate Julia Perrey, Schumann’s Dichterliebe
and Early Romantic Poetics: Fragmentation of Desire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2002). Further biographical contexts are provided in John Daverio, Robert Schumann: Herald of a
“New Poetic Age” (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997).
8. Other poets that Schumann set frequently include Chamisso, Geibel, Goethe, Kerner, and Rückert.
See Rufus Hallmark, “Robert Schumann: The Poet Sings,” in German Lieder in the Nineteenth
Century, ed. Rufus Hallmark (New York: Schirmer Books, 1996), 80.
9. Review of songs by Robert Franz as quoted and translated in Finson, Robert Schumann, 4.
10. For recent discussions of Schumann’s response to Heine’s irony see Daverio, Robert Schumann,
210–11; Finson, Robert Schumann, chap. 2; and Perrey, Schumann’s Dichterliebe and Early Romantic
Poetics, 124–30.
11. Ian Bent, Music Analysis in the Nineteenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994),
2:194.
12. Ferris observes, “There is an inherent tension between Eichendorff ’s folklike style, which is charac-
terized by a prevailing regular prosody and by simple stanzaic forms, and his typically Romantic use
of imagery and theme, through which he attempts to express the ineffable.” Schumann’s Eichendorff
Liederkreis, 93.
13. For a detailed summary of poetic meters and forms in Heine’s Lyrisches Intermezzo and the poems
that Schumann chose for Dichterliebe, see Hallmark, The Genesis of Schumann’s Dichterliebe, 25–29.
14. See Heine’s letter to Müller, quoted in Susan Youens, Retracing a Winter’s Journey: Schubert’s
Winterreise (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1991), 19.
Schumann responds to the regularities of poetic meter in Heine and Eichendorff

with regular phrase rhythms. Table 1.1 in chapter 1 summarizes the setting of
trimeter lines in Dichterliebe; most are set with basic [1, 2 / 1 -] schemas and its
variants.15 Most of the Eichendorff songs also use regular two- and four-bar phrase
rhythms. There is, nonetheless, a rhapsodic feeling to many of the songs, generated
by the open forms (as in “Im wunderschönen Monat Mai”), free-flowing piano
accompaniments, as well as broad syncopations and offset doublings.16 As Jürgen
Thym puts it in a chapter on Schumann’s songs, “Lieder composers throughout the
nineteenth century were drawn to simple and repetitive poetic forms because they
provide a skeleton to rein in the centrifugal forces associated with through-com-
position and the emancipation of the instrumental accompaniment.”17 Whether or
not the songs are through-composed, there is indeed a sense—and especially with
Schumann—that the simple poetic rhythms anchor “centrifugal forces.” There are
also songs in Dichterliebe and the Eichendorff Liederkreis with shifting declama-
tory patterns; these respond to irregularities of poetic rhythm (caesuras and
enjambments) and the expressive needs of the moment. The shifting declamatory
patterns may be set within quadratic phrasing, and this in itself is an interesting
feature of the style. There is an effect of rhythmic freedom, even speechlike decla-
mation, as the background periodicities are maintained.
There are many ways to understand the sense of intimacy in Schumann’s songs.
As we proceed, we will do so with close study of music and text: voice, doubling,
and reverberation. It is also worth noting how Schumann found and recorded
poems for musical setting, however. He did this not on his own, but in collabora-
tion with Clara. Beginning in 1839, the two collected poetry in a manuscript called
“Copies of Poems for Composition.” There are 169 entries, the majority of which
are in Clara’s hand, and Clara set some of the poems as well. Thus, that moment of
meeting between composer and poet, in the Schumanns’ case, was also inherently
a meeting with the beloved. It is a moment, for both of them, that begins with
writing, the copying of words onto paper. Goethe’s “Nur nicht lesen! immer sin-
gen!” was an imperative for the Schumanns, as in the earlier Lied, but reading and
writing were nonetheless where it started. We will compare this with reading prac-
tices that informed Brahms’s and Wolf ’s song composition in chapters 6 and 7.
I shall begin here with two songs from Dichterliebe: “Wenn ich in deine Augen
seh’” (No. 4) and “Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen” (No. 10). “Wenn ich in deine
Augen seh’” is a song of deep interiority; it illustrates fluid declamation, which is
unusual for the songs of 1840, and reverberation of vocal melody in the piano.
“Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen” will introduce us to Schumann’s offset doublings,
which in this case represent a recollection of the beloved’s song, reverberating
within. I then turn to “In der Fremde,” the first song in the Eichendorff Liederkreis;
this will illustrate a broader form of reverberation with more varied phrase and
declamatory rhythms. Notes on “Waldesgespräch” and “Die Stille” from the
15. See also Hallmark, The Genesis of Schumann’s Dichterliebe, 26–29.

Nineteenth Century, ed. Rufus Hallmark (New York: Schirmer Books, 1996), 14.
17. Thym, “Schumann: Reconfiguring the Lied,” 126.
Eichendorff Liederkreis will illustrate the interaction of “speech” and “song”

rhythms, as well as Schumann’s approach to poetic irregularities. I conclude with
midcentury Lied aesthetics and an analysis of “Einsamkeit,” Op. 90 No. 5, one of
the most hauntingly beautiful of the late songs.
“Wenn ich in deine Augen seh’” (Heine): Fluid Reflections

of the Lyric Self
“Wenn ich in deine Augen seh’” (When I gaze into your eyes) marks a turning point
in the first part of Dichterliebe. It concludes a series of three major-mode songs with
keys that descend by fifth: “Aus meinen Tränen spriessen” (No. 2) is in A major, “Die
Rose, die Lilie” (No. 3) is in D major, and “Wenn ich in deine Augen seh’” is in G
major. After “Wenn ich in deine Augen seh,’” the cycle turns to minor keys: “Ich will
meine Seele tauchen” (No. 5) is in B minor, and “Im Rhein” (No. 6) is in E minor.18
“Wenn ich in deine Augen seh’” also follows the ecstasy of “Die Rose, die Lilie” with
a slower moment of introspection, and an intimate series of recollections. The poet
looks into his beloved’s eyes, kisses her mouth, lies on her breast, and she then says,
“I love you!” This is commonly thought to be a lie—hence the poet’s tears—but it is
also significant as the only moment in which the beloved speaks. It is, in fact, the
only moment of speech from the beloved, not only in Schumann’s cycle but in all
sixty-five poems of Heine’s Lyrisches Intermezzo.19 As we will see, Schumann’s song
highlights this moment, tonally and rhythmically. The kiss in the next song, “Ich will
meine Seele tauchen,” is a kiss “that she once gave” (den sie mir einst gegeben); it is an
event of the past, and we know that the romance is over.20
The poem is in two quatrains of iambic tetrameter. All line endings are
accented, and the rhymes conjoin lines of each couplet: aabb ccdd. The couplets
proceed with a series of conditional and resultant clauses. Each line is an
independent clause, and each couplet is a full sentence, linked sometimes by semi-
colon to the following sentence. The only internal caesura is in the second stanza,
at “Doch wenn du sprichst: Ich liebe dich.”
Wenn ich in deine Augen seh,’ When I look into your eyes,
So schwindet all mein Leid und Weh; All my sorrow and pain disappear;
Doch wenn ich küsse deinen Mund, But when I kiss your mouth,
So werd’ ich ganz und gar gesund. Then I become wholly well.
Wenn ich mich lehn’ an deine Brust, When I lie on your breast,
(continued )
18. For a compelling account of tonal relations and narrative structure in the cycle, see Berthold
Hoeckner, “Paths through Dichterliebe,” 19th-Century Music 30, no. 1 (2006): 70–80. In Schumann’s
original version, there were two more songs after “Wenn ich in deine Augen seh,’” and two more
after “Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen.” These were taken out for the publication, in 1844. See
Hallmark, The Genesis of Schumann’s Dichterliebe, 123–25.
19. Perrey, Schumann’s Dichterliebe and Early Romantic Poetics, 187.
20. See Hoeckner, “Paths through Dichterliebe,” 73.
Kommt’s über mich wie Himmelslust; A heavenly delight comes over me;
Doch wenn du sprichst: Ich liebe dich! But when you say: I love you!
So muss ich weinen bitterlich.21 Then I must weep bitterly.22
Schumann sets this poem with a fluid form of declamation that is unique in
the songs of 1840. Indeed, our study of this song will serve as a foil, to highlight the
regularity of declamation in most other songs from this period. The interesting
thing, however, is that even here the shifting vocal rhythms at the local level are
supported by regular periodicities at the four-, eight-, and sixteen-bar levels. It is
the play between irregularity at the local level and regularity at higher levels,
combined with the through-composed form, that creates the particular inward
quality of this song. Rhythms and melodies also reverberate back and forth bet-
ween the voice and piano to form an intimate resonance of thought and feeling.
Example 5.1 (web) provides an annotated score. The first thing we may
note is the declamatory style, with repeated pitches and intermittent chords sup-
porting the voice. This is a style of direct address, a speech/song of the self to the
self, opposed to more “artful” and periodic forms of song. In the second measure
there is an echo, an affirmative reverberation of vocal melody in the piano. The
rhythmic relations between the two are irregular, however; the piano begins by
imitating the voice at the distance of one measure, but whereas the singer rises to
D5 on the downbeat (m. 2), the pianist rises to D5 a beat early, on the third beat
(m. 2). Musical thought seems to be fluid, not constrained within a regular meter.
In mm. 4–5 the piano leads and the voice follows, “speaking” that which the piano
had played. The interval of imitation is two beats, and again we have a rhythmic
effect that works against the notated meter. Singer and pianist come together in the
climax and cadence of mm. 5–8 (though the singer may take the lower line in
m. 7), and they come together again in mm. 12–14.
The piano’s eighth-note chords, leading into a downbeat in the form
<xqrrr/h.>, develop into a consistent rhythmic presence. It is a figure that is sug-
gested in m. 2 in imitation of the voice, established in mm. 4–5, and repeated in
mm. 8–9, 10–11, 12–13, and throughout the postlude. It functions frequently as a
link from one poetic line to the next, and it establishes the two-bar periodicity of
the song. (The figure emerged compositionally in imitation of Schumann’s early-
draft setting of the first line. Hallmark transcribes the draft and discusses the
changes of declamatory rhythm in successive versions of the song.)23
Vocal declamation hovers around this two-bar periodicity, while neither
matching nor seriously undermining it. At higher levels, couplets are set in four-
measure spans, quatrains in eight-measure periods, and the poem as a whole in
sixteen measures with a five-measure postlude. At the lower level, we can under-
stand the variation in terms of a few recurrent schemas and one line set uniquely.
The declamatory schemas [1, 2, 3 / 1 - -] and [1, 2, 3 / 1 -] are the most common;
21. Robert Schumann, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke, Vol. 8.2, Literarische Vorlagen der ein- und
mehrstimmigen Lieder, Gesänge und Deklamationen, ed. Helmut Schanze and Krischan Schulte
(Mainz: Schott, 2002), 187.
22. The translation is adapted from Miller, The Ring of Words, 103.
23. Hallmark, The Genesis of Schumann’s Dichterliebe, 47.
they set lines 2, 3, 5, and 6 (see annotations in the score). Line 1 has an analogous
schema, displaced by a beat: [2, 3 / 1, 2 -]. As Hallmark observes, “Áugen” is the focal
point of the line, and Schumann’s vocal rhythm places it effectively on the down-
beat.24 Lines 4 and 8 (“so werd’ ich ganz und gar gesund” and “so muss ich weinen
bitterlich”) use the “cadential” schemas [3 / 1, 2 - / 1 -] and [3 / 1, 2 - / 1 - -].25 The
upbeat beginning, which in fact involves three eighths, maintains continuity from
the preceding lines, and the downbeat arrival after a lengthening creates closure.
We have now accounted for all except for line 7, the critical phrase “doch wenn du
sprichst: ‘Ich liebe dich!” (But when you say, “I love you!”) Accented syllables are set
on beats [3 / 1 - - / 1, 2]; the singer begins the line with an upbeat and expands
“sprichst” to a full measure, the longest duration of any single syllable in the song.
There are parallelisms, most notably in the setting of lines 5–6 (the beginning
of the second quatrain) and lines 4 and 8 (the end of the two quatrains). These are
notable, however, for the hints of regularity that they give to an otherwise irregular
setting. Drafts of the song show that Schumann attempted to develop closer
musical parallelisms in the setting of lines 1, 3, and 5, but then chose to go with the
variable rhythms of poetic declamation.26 Through it all, Schumann maintains the
underlying two-, four-, and eight-bar units, and this is so even for the setting of
“doch wenn du sprichst,” with its sustained diminished seventh.
The fluidity within a flexible mold marks a particularly strong form of inward-
ness, a poetic moment if you will, and a point of no return in the cycle. It is a free flow
of thought and feeling, which is nonetheless constrained within the higher-level reg-
ularities, and restrained by the poet’s sense of possibilities closing down. As many
have noted, the sweet ending of “Wenn ich in deine Augen seh’” seems to contradict
Heine’s final line; one does not hear bitter weeping in Schumann’s song.27 What one
hears is resignation, and perhaps a feeling of peace that comes with it. Resignation is
a defining characteristic of the age, prior to the revolutions of 1848, and it is a recur-
rent element in Schumann’s interiorized musical voice. Release in tears will come as
well, and for this we turn to the tenth song, “Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen.”
“Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen” (Heine): Song, Memory,

and Reverberation
“Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen” (When I hear the song ringing) is self-referential;
the words refer to a song, which the sweetheart once sang, and the singer and
pianist seem to play and sing that very song. The singer-as-poet, furthermore,
24. Hallmark, The Genesis of Schumann’s Dichterliebe, 44–45.

25. The “cadential” schema for tetrameter lines is identified as such in chap. 1, and it also occurs in
Hensel’s “Maienlied,” discussed in chap. 3.
26. Hallmark, The Genesis of Schumann’s Dichterliebe, 45–46.
27. For commentary on this ending, see Hallmark, The Genesis of Schumann’s Dichterliebe, 48–52;
Perrey, Schumann’s Dichterliebe and Early Romantic Poetics, 181–88; and Eric Sams, The Songs of
Robert Schumann, 2nd ed. (London: Eulenberg Books, 1975), 111.
hears the song “ringing” (klingen), and in Schumann’s setting the vocal melody
“rings” in the offset doublings of the piano. The singer-as-poet hears what she sings
and sings about what she hears. (Heine’s poet is a man, but the singer may be a
woman.) The “intimate resonance” of voice and song is a founding myth of lyric
discourse from Herder and Goethe on, as David Wellbery has shown.28 Heine’s
historical contribution is to link song with memory, loss, and mourning; Schumann’s
is to perform the resonance as reverberation, with a non-simultaneity of heard and
sung voices.
The poem is short, like most of the poems in Heine’s Lyrisches Intermezzo, with
two stanzas of iambic trimeter. The first line substitutes a trochee for the initial
iamb, “Hö́r’ ich das Líedchen klíngen,” and this creates a kind of call to attention (as
noted in chap. 1). Paired unaccented syllables between the accents create a similar
impulse in lines 3 and 5, at the beginnings of the second and third couplets: “So
wíll mir die Brúst zerspríngen” and “Es tréibt mich ein dúnkles Séhnen.” This is
typical of Heine’s rhythmic variations; the strict iambic rhythm of “Wenn ich in
deine Augen seh’” is more unusual.29 The rhyme scheme in “Hör’ ich das Liedchen”
is abab, and lines alternate unaccented and accented endings. Poetic syntax works
within the periodicities of line and couplet.
Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen, When I hear the song ringing,
Das einst die Liebste sang, which once my sweetheart sang,
So will mir die Brust zerspringen, Then my heart wants to burst,
Vor wildem Schmerzendrang. from the pressure of savage pain.
Es treibt mich ein dunkles Sehnen A dark longing drives me
Hinauf zur Waldeshöh,’ Up to the forest heights,
Dort lös’t sich auf in Tränen There it dissolves in tears,
Mein übergrosses Weh.’30 My overwhelming grief.31
Example 5.2 (web) provides a score for Schumann’s song. The declamation
is entirely regular: trimeter lines are set with the declamatory schema [1, 2 / 1 - ],
and couplets are set in four-bar phrases. Dactylic rhythms set an accented syllable
and pair of unaccented syllables at phrase beginnings (“Hör’ ich das,” “will mir die,”
and “treibt mich ein”). Schumann sets the unaccented line endings on the second
eighths of the measures; pairs of eighth notes set “klingen” (m. 6), “springen”
(m. 10), “Sehnen” (m. 14), and “Tränen” (m. 18). There is then a subtle vocal
syncopation bridging the two lines of each couplet, as is common in trimeter
settings. (See the discussion of Schubert’s “Erstarrung” in chap. 1.)
We first hear the “song”—which the singer-as-poet hears as well—in the piano
introduction. Melodic tones are struck on the second sixteenth of each beat and
sustained, forming a 4+1 layer (unit = sixteenth). (Here I return to the methodology
28. David E. Wellbery, The Specular Moment: Goethe’s Early Lyric and the Beginnings of Romanticism
(Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1996), chap. 6, esp. pp. 188 and 205.
29. See Hallmark, The Genesis of Schumann’s Dichterliebe, 25.
30. Schumann, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke, vol. 8.2, Literarische Vorlagen, 190.
for the analysis of metric displacements introduced in chap. 2.) The singer then
enters with this same phrase, and the piano continues to reproduce melodic tones
at the top of its arpeggios, continuing the 4+1 layer. Hans Georg Nägeli recognized
the aesthetic and compositional potential of delayed doublings in his article from
1817. He observed that doublings work well in vocal music (more so than in
instrumental music), and encouraged the use of “all kinds of chordal arpeggiation,
whereby one strikes the vocal pitch afterwards with an interval of the chord.”32 The
technique becomes especially common in Schumann’s songs.
It is characteristic of Schumann’s offset doublings that the piano’s melodic
tones form a regular pulsation and enter into a variety of temporal relations with
the more rhythmically varied vocal line. Thus, for instance, the piano’s <B b, A, G>
line in mm. 5–6 echoes the singer’s pitches a sixteenth after, but the A in m. 6 then
anticipates the singer’s A by a sixteenth. The relations are especially interesting in
the descending fifths sequence of mm. 13–16, at “es treibt mich ein dunkles
Sehnen . . .” (a dark longing drives me . . .). The singer changes pitch on the second
eighth, but the piano delays this change until the next event in its 4+1 layer. One
notices this especially in the fourth ascents at the end of each line, on “Sehnen” and
“höh”; the vocal ascent is displaced and augmented in the piano ascent. The piano’s
Bb in m. 14 and A in m. 16 also anticipate the vocal pickups by a sixteenth; the
melody truly rings back and forth.
It is also characteristic that the piano’s pulsating melody departs, at times, from
the vocal melody. Here, the piano introduces a transposition of the original tune,
above the voice, in mm. 9–10. And what does this signify? Why would the two
melodic lines depart at just this moment? The piano melody is that which the poet
hears, and now he continues to hear it but also comments on his response, on his
heart that would burst from the pain of memory and loss.
The piano postludes in Dichterliebe are famous for their length and emotive
intensity; they seem to say in tones all that could not be said in words. The postlude
in “Hör’ ich das Liedchen” is a case in point: the poet’s “übergrosses Weh” (over-
whelming grief) overflows beyond the bounds of the vocal melody. What we hear at
first, though, is the song’s signature melody, the diminutive Liedchen from the intro-
duction and first phrase, overlapping with the end of the vocal line (mm. 19–20).
This Liedchen then continues to overlap with itself canonically until it disintegrates
in a sequence with a chromatically rising line in the alto (mm. 24–25) and dissolves
in circling, descending sixteenths (mm. 26–30). Indeed, the postlude seems to enact
the three stages of the poet’s grief: memory of the song and beloved (mm. 19–23),
intense driving pain (mm. 24–25), and release in tears (mm. 26–30).
The interesting thing from a rhythmic point of view is that the postlude engages
multiple displaced layers. The metaphor of metric dissonance is apt here since the
displaced layers resonate painfully in the poet’s mind. The melody sounds first at
4+1 in the top line. Schumann’s accented pitches in mm. 21–22 then draw our
attention to the second entrance. While the first iteration of the melody continues
to sound at 4+1 (D-F#-G in the top voice), the second iteration begins with
32. Hans Georg Nägeli, “Die Liederkunst,” Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung 45 (1817): 765.
accented pitches at 4+2 (B b-A-G-A). The top voice then dies out, and the second
iteration shifts over to 4+1 in m. 23, leaving room for a new beginning at 4+2. In a
sense, the 4+1 and 4+2 layers are byproducts of the descending arpeggio texture;
the top voice gets 4+1, and the next voice down gets 4+2. The effect, however, is
unusual. We get a canon with voices marked not only by range and continuity of
line but also by temporal placement within the quarter-note spans.
Syncopations then overlap in a different way in the tense rising gesture of
mm. 24–25. From the second beat of m. 24, the rising chromatic line in the alto forms
an eighth-note syncopation, 2+1 (unit = sixteenth), and the pedal G in the soprano
forms 4+2. The 2+1 and 4+2 layers complement each other rhythmically; the 2+1
layer is on weak sixteenths with pitches sustained over the primary eighth beats, and
the 4+2 layer is on weak eighths with pitches sustained over the primary quarter beats.
Together, the two layers nearly saturate the sixteenth-note pulse; only the beginning
of each quarter span is missing, and this is filled in strongly by the rising bass.33
Thus, the offset pulsations perform the reverberation of melody and memory
in the poet’s disturbed mind; they carve out a space for reverberation within the
self. The piano melody pulsates with the regular 4+1 beat, both echoing and antic-
ipating the more rhythmically varied vocal line. As words fail the poet, in the post-
lude, the melody reverberates in a combined 4+1 and 4+2 canon. Tension then
builds with rhythmically complementary displacements, 2+1 and 4+2, as the rising
diatonic and chromatic lines converge with the pedal G4 onto the structural dom-
inant (m. 26) and the release in tears (from m. 26 to the end).
“In der Fremde” (Eichendorff ): Reverberation and Longing
To review: “Wenn ich in deine Augen seh’” introduced variable declamation

contained within four-, eight-, and sixteen-bar spans, and “Hör’ ich das Liedchen
klingen” introduced the reverberation of voice and piano in offset doublings and
multilayered displacement effects in the piano postlude. “In der Fremde” (In a
foreign land), the first song of the Eichendorff Liederkreis, Op. 39, will illustrate two
additional features of Schumann’s compositional practice in the songs of 1840.34
33. I discuss the superposition of displacements at multiple levels and provide further examples in
Malin, “Metric Displacement Dissonance and Romantic Longing,” 263–65, 272, and 279. Harald
Krebs’s explanation of relationships between metric dissonances is also relevant here; see Krebs,
Fantasy Pieces: Metrical Dissonance in the Music of Robert Schumann (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1999), 42–44.
34. “In der Fremde” appears at the head of the cycle in the 1850 edition, which has become canonical.
In the first published edition of the cycle from 1842, “Der frohe Wandersmann” occupied the place
of “In der Fremde.” For discussions of the two editions and the choice of opening song see
Brinkmann, Schumann und Eichendorff, 75; Ferris, Schumann’s Eichendorff Liederkreis, 93–95;
Patrick McCreless, “Song Order in the Song Cycle: Schumann’s Liederkreis, Op. 39,” Music Analysis
5, no. 1 (1986): 5–28; and Barbara Turchin, “Schumann’s Song Cycles: The Cycle within the Song,”
19th-Century Music 8, no. 3 (1985): 231–44. The eighth song in the cycle is also called “In der
Fremde”; here we will be concerned with the first song.
First, there are broader offset doublings, and the temporal discrepancy resolves at
one significant moment. Second, Schumann responds to irregularities in the poetic
rhythm with a variable phrase rhythm. Thus, whereas the pull of irregularities was
contained in the poetry and musical setting of “Wenn ich in deine Augen seh,” here
they break out of line/couplet and four-/eight-/sixteen-bar molds—and they do so
to express the intense longing of the poetic self. Sketches of this song, transcribed
and discussed by Brinkmann and Ferris, show that Schumann struggled with this
setting, and especially with the setting of lines 5–7.35 The end result is certainly suc-
cessful, but it is one of many possible responses. In chapter 6 we will compare
Schumann’s setting with that of the young Brahms.
Eichendorff ’s poem, given below, is one of alienation and longing. Alienation is
extreme in lines 1–4; a storm comes from the distant homeland (Heimat), but where
there once was home and family, now all human connections are lost. Lines 5–8
begin with a yearning for death and dissolution of the self in nature, but the alien-
ation remains. Even here, after death, no one will remember me, sings the poet.
1. Aus der Heimat hinter den Blitzen rot From my home beyond the red
lightning
Da kommen die Wolken her, come the clouds,
Aber Vater und Mutter sind lange todt, But father and mother are long dead,
Es kennt mich dort keiner mehr. No one knows me there anymore.
5. Wie bald, wie bald kommt die stille Zeit, How soon, how soon comes the quiet
time,
Und keiner mehr kennt mich auch hier.36 And no one will remember me even
here.37
The poem is in a single eight-line stanza, with an implied division into two
quatrains. Lines 1–4 consist of two couplets, with an abab rhyme scheme and
alternating tetrameter and trimeter lines, and lines 5–8 provide another pair of
couplets with a cdcd rhyme scheme. The syntax and rhythm work very differently,
however, in the two halves of the poem. In lines 1–4, the poetic syntax sits comfort-
ably within the poetic lines and couplets. The first couplet consists of a complete
sentence with two clauses, the second couplet has two related statements. In lines
5–8, the poet’s voice can no longer be contained, as it were, within the frame of
poetic periodicities. The repetition of “Wie bald, wie bald” (how soon, how soon)
in line 5 signals the urgency of longing, and “Da ruhe ich auch” in line 6 finishes a
statement early, before the end of the line. The latter part of line 6, “und über mir,”
then leads on with an enjambment to the next line. Rhythmic flow is implicated
here as well; the enjambment may be read as “und ǘ-ber mir / ráu-schet die
schö́-ne . . .,” that is, with two unaccented syllables at the end of line 6 flowing
35. Brinkmann, Schumann und Eichendorff, 72–74; and Ferris, Schumann’s Eichendorff Liederkreis,
109–19.
36. Schumann, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke, Vol. 8.2, Literarische Vorlagen, 85.
directly into an accented syllable at the beginning of line 7. (Schumann reads it

differently, as we shall see.) Thus, the discourse of the poet’s yearning voice may
flow not only over the line ending, but also over the couplet boundary and rhyme
scheme. One may emphasize “mir” at the end of line 6 because of the rhyme with
“hier,” but one may also read past the rhyme. If the word “mir” is buried in the
ongoing flow, and if one notices retrospectively—after the word “hier”—that it
should have been but was not accented, then this becomes a metaphor for the
anticipated burial and loss of the self.38 The final line then sits on its own, discon-
nected from the immediately preceding lines, and in this way it is like the solitary
poet. The final line does link up with the fourth line, at the end of the first quatrain:
“No one knows me there anymore” (line 4) “and no one will remember me even
here” (line 8).39
In turning to Schumann’s song (ex. 5.3 (web) ), we may first take note of the
delayed doubling. The piano arpeggios reach up to double the voice with dynami-
cally accented pitches on beats 2 and 4 through most of the song. Beats 2 and 4 are
“afterbeats,” continuations of the half-note durations begun on beats 1 and 3; they
generate a 2+1 layer (unit = quarter). This is a broader delay than those we found
in “Hör’ ich das Liedchen” from Dichterliebe. Melodic pitches in “In der Fremde”
form the peak of a recurring melodic/metric wave, on which the voice rides. It is
once again characteristic, however, that the vocal melody enters into a variety of
temporal relations with the piano’s pulsations. The piano’s F# on the fourth beat of
m. 1, for instance, coincides with the singer’s upbeat. In m. 2, the piano’s As echo
the vocal pitches from beats 1 and 3, and on beat 4 the piano’s A coincides with the
singer’s G#-F#. In m. 4, the A is a delayed doubling, and the G# on beat 4 antici-
pates the vocal G# by an eighth. The piano and voice come together with the rep-
etition of “da ruhe ich auch” (then I too will rest) in mm. 14–15; they resolve the
temporal discrepancy to imagine a moment of rest, as Harald Krebs has observed.40
The effect of this moment, however, depends also on the phrase and declamatory
rhythms, and we turn to those now.
Schumann sets the couplets of stanza 1 with a repeating four-bar phrase in F#
minor, inflected the second time through with diminished and half-diminished
harmonies (mm. 6 and 7). The declamatory schema is regular and consistent: [1, 2
/ 1, 2] for the tetrameter lines and [1, 2 / 1 -] for the trimeter lines. Schumann con-
tinues with the same declamatory schema for the fifth line, “Wie bald, ach wie bald
kommt die stille Zeit” (adding the emotive “ach” to Eichendorff ’s line), but he then
stretches out the declamation to one poetic foot per bar for “da ruhe ich auch.”
Recall that it is this latter phrase that finishes early in the poetic rhythm—it takes
up only half a line—and Schumann responds by stretching out the phrase to fill
the two-bar span of a full line. One can read the augmentation of declamatory
rhythm as a response to poetic meaning as well as structure. The augmentation
38. The metrical reading with no accent on “mir” is also given in Ferris, Schumann’s Eichendorff
Liederkreis, 96.
39. Poetic analyses by Brinkmann and Ferris anticipate the points made here; see Brinkmann, Schumann
und Eichendorff, 73; and Ferris, Schumann’s Eichendorff Liederkreis, 95–98.
40. Krebs, Fantasy Pieces, 163.
dramatizes the sense of coming to rest (“da ruhe ich auch”—when I too will rest),
as it normalizes the shortened line segment.
Schumann further decides to repeat this segment of text; the singer avoids a
vocal cadence with the leap up to E5 in m. 13, he avoids coming to rest, and he then
repeats “da ruhe ich auch.” The phrase as a whole spans six measures (10–15); the
E5 of m. 13 is the high point of the phrase and song (excluding the piano).41 It is
after this high point, with the repetition of “da ruhe ich auch,” that the piano
resolves its temporal discrepancy and moves precisely with the voice. E4 is main-
tained in an inner voice as the singer and bass descend in parallel sixths
(mm. 14–15); it becomes the dissonant seventh in V4/3/B minor (m. 15) and
resolves finally down to D in m. 16. Thus, the augmentation of declamatory rhythm
and resolution of temporal discrepancy perform the sense of rest, “now” (i.e., in
mm. 14–15), while harmony points to a future moment of rest (in m. 16). When
the resolution to B minor arrives, we are into a new phrase, and the piano’s 2+1
doubling starts up again.
The point here, furthermore, is that the 2+1 doublings (unit = quarter) create
different effects as the declamatory rhythm changes. Initially, the piano’s melodic
pitches arrive as the dotted vocal rhythms are sustained, and with the two-eighths
or quarter pickups (see mm. 2–3, for instance). As the declamatory rhythm expands
in mm. 12–13, the offset doublings echo both strong and weak syllables. The singer
sustains individual pitches of “da ruhe ich auch,” in the slower declamation, and the
piano comes in to double them at 2+1. The piano, in turn, sustains its melodic
pitches, and they become syncopations with dissonances on beats 1 and 3. The dis-
sonances do not resolve as suspensions; rather, they move to double the singer’s
next pitch. The coming together of voice and piano then becomes all the more
apparent, as the singer repeats “da ruhe ich auch” in mm. 14–15.
Table 5.1 summarizes the transformation of poetic line and syntax into declam-
atory schema and musical phrase rhythm in mm. 10–21. Accent marks in the text
of table 5.1 reflect the metrical placement in Schumann’s song. Basically, Schumann
sets each line-and-a-half segment in a six-bar phrase. Lines 5 and the beginning of
line 6 get the six-bar phrase in mm. 10–15, and the latter part of line 6 through all
of line 7 get another six-bar phrase, in mm. 16–21. This represents an augmenta-
tion by two of the normal text to music ratio; a line and a half would typically be
set in three measures. The overall augmentation, however, is produced through
expanded declamatory rhythm and text repetition. Table 5.1 places the repeated
text phrases in parentheses.
Thus, Schumann responds to the poetic caesura and enjambment not by repro-
ducing them literally, but by working them into an expanded phrase rhythm. Each
of the six-bar phrases can be understood as a four-bar phrase with a two-bar
extension. (Measures 14–15 extend the first six-bar phrase, mm. 20–21 extend the
second.) The two-bar unit is still maintained, as in the earlier songs that we con-
sidered, but the four- and eight-bar periodicities no longer hold sway. Table 5.2
41. Ferris provides a four-bar model for this phrase; see Schumann’s Eichendorff Liederkreis, 100–3.
Phrase rhythm in the song is also discussed in Deborah J. Stein and Robert Spillman, Poetry into
Song: Performance and Analysis of Lieder (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), 176.
Table 5.1: Poetic and Musical Rhythms in “In der Fremde,” lines 5–7/mm. 10–21
Lines Measures Text Decl. Schema
5–6.5 6 (mm. 10–15) Wie báld, ach wie báld kommt die stílle Zéit [1, 2 / 1, 2]
da Rúhe ich áuch [1 - / 1 -]
(da Rúhe ich áuch) [1 - / 1 -]
6.5–7 6 (mm. 16–21) und ǘber mír rauscht die schö́ne Wáldeinsamkéit [1, 2 / 1 - / 1 - / 1 -]
(die schö́ne Wáldeinsamkéit) [1, 2 / 1 -]
summarizes the larger durations of the song in relation to the poetic lines.42 The
odd-numbered durations for the first and third sections are not so significant from
a text-setting point of view; they result from a single-measure piano introduction
and four-measure postlude, which elides with the vocal cadence. The more
significant feature is the expansion of four-bar phrases into six in the middle sec-
tion, and the subsequent contraction to a subtly varied two-bar phrase (see mm.
22–23 and 24–25). The postlude presents a further contraction, with single-bar
gestures that descend quasi-sequentially over a repeating harmonic progression.
We may also consider the 2+1 doublings in relation to metric-wave fluctua-
tions at other levels. Overall, the vocal rhythm reinforces the meter of the notated
bars. Primary agogic accents (i.e., longer durations) emphasize the downbeats, for
example, in mm. 2, 3, 7, 11, and 12. There are counter-stresses on the third beats of
mm. 4 and 8, however, with grace notes that lead up to local high points on B4.
These effects animate the melodic line in the third bar of the four-bar phrases, just
before the cadence, and they return in the two-bar phrases of mm. 22–23 and
24–25—rising in this last instance to D5. The piano then echoes the vocal line in
mm. 25–26 and repeats the gesture, stepping it down, through the final measures.
This postlude gesture in turn recalls the piano’s countermelody of mm. 10–11, with
its leap up to a high note on the third beat.
All of this adds up to a network of third-beat stresses.43 The vocal B4s of mm. 4
and 8 are significant from a linear point of view because they introduce the pitch
that the singer then takes up in mm. 10–12. The piano’s F#5s of mm. 10–11 also
have structural significance; they are the highest piano pitches in the song, and they
Table 5.2: Phrase Rhythm in “In der Fremde”
Poetic Measures (number of Phrases

Lines measures)
1–4 1–9 (9) 4+4 phrases with a one-measure introduction

5–7 10–21 (12) 6+6 phrases, each formed as 4+2
8 22–28 (7) 2+2 phrases elided with a four-bar postlude
(1+1+1+1)
42. Ferris provides a similar table; see Schumann’s Eichendorff Liederkreis, 97.
43. This analysis complements the motivic analysis in Ferris, Schumann’s Eichendorff Liederkreis, 108.
link up with the voice’s and the piano’s descending line in mm. 13–15.44 Together,
these stresses hint at a 4+2 layer (unit = quarter), a displacement at the next level up
from the pervasive 2+1. The 2+1 and 4+2 layers are rhythmically complementary
displacements, like those in “Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen.” Here, however, they
occur at higher metric levels, with tactus grouping rather than divisions, and here
they occur with the combination of vocal line and piano accompaniment. The
superposition of layers in mm. 10–11 is especially noteworthy; the vocal rhythm
clearly emphasizes beats 1 and 3, the top pitches of the piano arpeggios echo the
voice on beats two and four, and the piano reaches up to F#5 on beat three. This is
a richly layered metric wave, which contributes to the expression of yearning.45
In sum, Schumann’s “In der Fremde” provides a fascinating case study for
Schumann’s rhythmic practice in the 1840 songs. There is the regular four-bar
phrasing of the first section, setting lines 1–4 of Eichendorff ’s poem. There are the
irregularities of poetic rhythm in lines 5–8, which Schumann works into an
expanded phrase rhythm. There are offset doublings in a 2+1 layer (unit = quarter),
which vary in their effect depending on the declamatory rhythm—and resolve as
the poetic persona looks forward to a time of rest. Finally, there are the higher-
level fluctuations in the metric wave, emphases on beat three in both the vocal and
piano melodies.
In October of 1840, Schumann wrote that the song composer aims “to produce
a resonant echo of the poem and its smallest features by means of a refined musical
content.”46 This, in any case, is John Daverio’s translation;47 Schumann speaks of
“Das Gedicht . . . nachzuwirken,” more literally translated as “to reproduce [or
re-create] the poetic effects.”48 And yet, Daverio’s translation is more poetic, more
in line with Schumann and Florestan (one of Schumann’s literary alter egos), per-
haps even more true if we are to speak of Schumann’s songs. It is indeed the reso-
nant echo of poetry that we hear pulsating, an echo deep within the literary and
musical self.
“Waldesgespräch” and “Die Stille” (Eichendorff ): The

Performative Effects of Rhythmic Irregularity
Schumann’s songs of 1840 tend to have regular four- or eight-bar phrase rhythms,
as we have seen, and rhythmic irregularities have particular expressive functions.
Two additional songs from the Eichendorff Liederkreis will illustrate performative
44. See Ferris, Schumann’s Eichendorff Liederkreis, 101. The voice leading structure, from F#5 in m. 10
to E5 in m. 13 and then to D5 in m. 16, leads Ferris to interpret the phrase as three-plus-three mea-
sures (see Ferris’s ex. 4.3 on p. 105). The two-bar spans are maintained more strongly to my ear,
however, by the prolongation of a single harmony in mm. 10–11 and parallelisms of text, harmony,
and melodic line in mm. 12 and 14.
45. Ferris provides a similar interpretation; see Schumann’s Eichendorff Liederkreis, 100.
46. Robert Schumann, “Drei gute Liederhefte,” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik 13, no. 30 (1840), 118.
47. Daverio, Robert Schumann, 206.
48. See Leon Plantinga, Schumann as Critic (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1967), 165 and 175.
effects of rhythmic irregularities—that is, the way they contribute to imaginary

stagings of poetic scenes. Of course the poems themselves feature moments of
rhythmic irregularity, and these also may have performative functions. Schumann
does not always reproduce the poetic irregularities as such, but he responds to
them in his own medium and form.
“Waldesgespräch” (Forest Conversation), the third song in the Op. 39 cycle, is a
miniature dramatic scene. It is a meeting in the woods of a male protagonist and the
Loreley, that enchantress whose song lures unsuspecting men to their death. (The
Loreley here entices from a horse deep in the Eichendorff forest, not from her rock
by the Rhine.) Variations in the declamatory rhythm play into this scene; the male
protagonist’s arioso-like “speech” is more irregular than the Loreley’s “song.” The
male protagonist in fact sings (or “speaks”) over a regular four-bar phrase in
the piano at first. We hear the piano’s phrase in mm. 1–4 (harmonies I-V-I-V), and
the singer-as-male-protagonist then declaims the line “Es ist schon spät, es ist schon
kalt” over a repetition of the piano phrase. Example 5.4 provides the vocal line with
declamatory schema annotation. The schema for the first line is [- - 3 / 1 - - / - - 3 /
1 - -]; it moves toward the second bar of each hypermetric pair. (The 3/4 measure
pairs are notated as individual 6/4 measures in Schumann’s autograph score.)49 The
declamatory rhythm then becomes progressively more compressed. Lines 1 and 3
are set with the [3 / 1] upbeat-oriented patterns, but whereas line 1 stretches over
four bars, line 3 spans only two bars. Lines 2 and 4 place initial accented syllables on
downbeats but whereas line 2 spans two bars and a beat, line 4 spans only two bars
with an elision on the second. Essentially, the male protagonist takes control of the
discourse in the later part of this strophe, while the piano leaves behind its four-bar
Example 5.4: “Waldesgesrpäch,” Op. 39 No. 3, mm. 5–15 (vocal line)
Ziemlich rasch
Line 1
5
3 [- - 3 1 - - - - 3 1 - -]

4
Es ist schon spät, es ist schon kalt, was
Line 2 Line 3
[1 - - 1 - 3 1 -] [3 1 - 3
9

/ 0

reit’st du ein - sam durch den Wald? Der Wald ist lang, du bist al -
Line 4
13
1 -] [1

2 3
1 - -]
"
lein, du schö - ne Braut, ich führ’ dich heim!
49. See the facsimile in Herwig Knaus, Musiksprache und Werkstruktur in Robert Schumanns Liederkreis
mit dem Faksimile des Autographs (Munich: E. Katzbichler, 1974).
phrase. The male protagonist would likewise take chivalrous control of the strangely
beautiful woman he has met, but of course something else is in store for him.
In comparison, Schumann twice normalizes the Loreley’s speech, fitting poetic
irregularities into the four-bar musical phrases. The second stanza ends with the
Loreley singing “O flieh! du weisst nicht, wer ich bin” (Oh flee, you do not know
who I am). The exclamation mark creates a caesura, dividing the tetrameter line
unevenly into 1+3 poetic feet. (There is also a comma in the line, but this does not
create as strong a caesura.) Schumann repeats “O flieh” so that it takes up two mea-
sures and then fits “du weisst nicht, wer ich bin” in two measures; the schema ends
up as [1 - - / (1 - -) / 1 - 3 / 1 - -].50 The repetition of course also serves to emphasize
the pivotal command, “O flieh!” An analogous transformation occurs at the next
level up in Schumann’s setting of the fourth stanza. A caesura and enjambment
generate a 2+6 grouping of poetic feet for the first two lines, “Du kénnst mich
wóhl—von hóhem Stéin / Schaut stíll mein Schlóss tíef in den Rhéin” (You know
me well—from the high rock / My castle looks silently deep into the Rhine).
Schumann repeats the phrase “Du kennst mich wohl,” stretching it out to four
measures, and then compresses the latter six feet into another four-bar phrase.
Here again there is normalization of an irregularity in the poetic rhythm, but also
performative emphasis on the short poetic phrase, which is the crucial phrase.
“You know me well, you know me well,” sings Schumann’s Loreley, and (essen-
tially), “now you’re a goner.”51
“Die Stille” (The Silent One), the fourth song from the Op. 39 cycle, thematizes
secret interiorized happiness, a happiness of which none but the beloved should be
aware. An irregularity of poetic rhythm occurs in the second stanza; there is an
enjambment from the second to the third line of this stanza, that is, across the
boundary of the poetic couplets.
So still ist’s nicht draussen im Schnee, It is not so still out in the snow,
So stumm und verschwiegen sind Nor so mute and secretive are
Die Sterne nicht in der Höhe, The stars in the heavens,
Als meine Gedanken sind.52 As are my thoughts.53
A complete translation of the enjambment is impossible in English. The verb “sind”

(are) is separated not only from the subject, “die Sterne” (the stars), but also from
the negation, “nicht” (not). Eichendorff repeats “sind” at the end of line 4 in place
of a rhyme, and the purposeful awkwardness works well with the poetic persona’s
50. A similar situation can be found in Schubert’s “Im Dorfe,” at “Je nun, sie haben ihr Teil genossen /
und hoffen, was sie noch übrig liessen”; Schubert sets the lines with a repetition of “Je nun” and
“und hoffen,” in the schema [1 - (3 -) / 1, 2, 3 -].
51. In an analysis of “Frühlings Bewillkommung,” Op. 79 No. 4, Jon Finson shows that Schumann
works the irregular line lengths of the poem into his quadratic musical phrasing. See Finson,
“Schumann’s Mature Style and the ‘Album of Songs for the Young,’” Journal of Musicology 8, no. 2
(1990): 240. There are similar observations about quadratic phrasing in Finson’s Robert Schumann;
these can be found via the index entry “quadratic phrasing.”
52. Schumann, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke, Vol. 8.2, Literarische Vorlagen, 87.
determined secretiveness: she will not reveal her thoughts and neither does she
“sing” in rhythm or rhyme with the poetic lines and couplets.
Example 5.5 provides a score for Schumann’s setting of this stanza. The first
line is set in the normal trimeter schema [1, 2 / 1 -]. Schumann then goes with the
syntactic grouping rather than the poetic line division; he sets the second and third
lines as “so stúmm und verschwíegen” and then “sind die Stérne nícht in der Hö́h.’”
The scansion given here, which corresponds with Schumann’s setting, shows that
Schumann’s second line has two poetic feet, and his third has three. The interesting
thing, then, from compositional and expressive points of view, is that Schumann
sets his dimeter line with a silent downbeat, as [- 2 / 1 -]. The singer seems to listen
during this silence, and then comment on it. Essentially, Schumann solves a
problem of declamatory rhythm—the setting of a poetic enjambment—and cre-
ates a performative symbol at the same time. The rhythmic irregularities are readily
apparent in the second stanza of the poem, but they do not perform the poetic
meaning with anything approaching the vividness of Schumann’s setting.
Example 5.5: “Die Stille,” Op. 39 No. 4, mm. 9–16
[1 2 1 -]
6 9

8
So still ist’s nicht draus - sen im Schnee,
6
8

68

[- 2 1 -] [1 2
11

so stumm und ver - schwie - gen sind die Ster - ne nicht in der

14
1

-] [1 2

1 -]

Höh’, als mei - ne Ge - dank - en sind.

It is worth pausing to review Schumann’s treatment of enjambments in “In der

Fremde,”“Waldesgespräch,” and “Die Stille.” In each case, Schumann goes with the syn-
tactic rhythm over the poetic line length, joining linked lines or line segments together
in his musical phrases. One might say that he is respecting the poetic enjambment in
this way, but in fact the feeling of enjambment is lost. Enjambment depends on a tension
between the line boundary and syntactic flow, and Schumann’s settings do not repro-
duce this tension. We will see a different approach to poetic enjambment in Brahms’s
setting of “In der Fremde,” and the difference is indicative of a new approach to poetic
texts—one that belongs, fundamentally, to the later nineteenth century (see chap. 6).
Schumann’s Late Style and Midcentury Lied Aesthetics
In chapters 6 and 7 we turn to the Lied after 1850, focusing especially on songs by
Brahms and Wolf. Before doing so, though, we should take note of Schumann’s late style,
which coincides with and was influenced by a pivotal moment in Lied aesthetics. The
aesthetic debates were extensive, and they affected Lied composition for all those who
wished to align themselves with what was then felt to be the “progressive” movement.
Just as Schumann had presented himself in the 1830s and ’40s as a leader of the
avant-garde, advocating more “poetic” styles of composition, there is every reason to
believe that he followed and was sympathetic to the new trends around 1850.
Ulrich Mahlert documents the midcentury debates and their effect on
Schumann’s style, and Jon Finson also highlights features of Schumann’s late style
in relation to contemporary aesthetics.54 There are a few important points of which
we should be aware. First, the new aesthetic advocated by Wagner and his followers
involved a renegotiation of the relations between text and music, and especially the
rhythms of speech and song—those very elements that constituted the “poly-
rhythm” of the Lied, as Nägeli referred to it in 1817. Wagner felt that composers
should free themselves from periodic structures, which he associated with Italianate
melody, so as to express the words more directly. Second, the new aesthetics fil-
tered through to discussions of the Lied, and it is likely that Schumann would have
heard them directly from Wagner.55 As Finson observes, “The negative aspects of
the relationship between Schumann and Wagner are well known . . . but over a long
period the two remained on relatively good terms, and during their mutual
residence in Dresden they enjoyed one another’s company.”56 Wagner himself indi-
cated that the two exchanged ideas about music.57 Third, the new aesthetics
involved not only a renegotiation of the relations between words and music, but
54. Finson, “Schumann’s Mature Style”; Finson, Robert Schumann, chap. 6; and Mahlert, Fortschritt und
Kunstlied: Späte Lieder Robert Schumanns im Licht der liedästhetischen Diskussion ab 1848 (Munich:
E. Katzbichler, 1983). Laura Tunbridge provides an overview of the late style with a valuable chapter
on the songs; see Tunbridge, Schumann’s Late Style (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007).
55. See Mahlert, Fortschritt und Kunstlied, 40–59.
56. Finson, “Schumann’s Mature Style,” 249.
57. See Richard Wagner, My Life, trans. Andrew Gray, ed. Mary Whittall (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1983), 319, quoted in Finson, “Schumann’s Mature Style,” 249.
also a more public conception of the genre. The Lied should no longer shy away
from the public view, as Theodor Uhlig put it, rather it should be sought out by the
performing artist and sung so as to have an effect on listeners.58 Schumann himself
had been engaged in vocal writing for the stage (the opera Genoveva and Faust
scenes) before his return to the Lied in 1849, and it is clear that he carried some of
the more dramatic style of writing back into his Lied compositions.59 This more
public and performative approach to the Lied carries over not only to Wolf, as is
commonly assumed, but to Brahms as well.
Many (though not all) of Schumann’s late songs eschew regular periodicities and
parallel phrase structures. “Kennst du das Land,” Op. 79 No. 28, discussed by Finson,
is a beautiful example; the song is strophic, but each phrase within the strophes unfolds
with a unique melodic, harmonic, and motivic logic. As Finson puts it, Schumann
“transforms Goethe’s words from poetry into prose, the Lied from a lyric to a dramatic
genre.”60 Mahlert presents “Melancholie,” Op. 74 No. 6, as a particularly clear example
of the new declamatory-dramatic style, and he shows how Schumann avoids sym-
metrical phrase constructions.61 Here I present analytical notes on a haunting setting
from the Lenau cycle, “Einsamkeit” (Solitude), Op. 90 No. 5, written in August 1850.
“Einsamkeit” presents a juxtaposition of regular poetic rhythms, regular arpeggiated
figuration, and irregular phrasing, and in this way it illustrates the dissolution of poetry
into prose. It also illustrates the expressive impact of a return to metric regularity and
phrase parallelisms, in a context where they are far from pervasive. Quadratic phras-
ing has become a “semantic tool,” as Finson puts it, in Schumann’s late style.62
Lenau’s melancholic poem itself is strictly periodic at multiple levels (see
below). There are four quatrains of trochaic tetrameter; each quatrain has an abba
rhyme scheme. (The poem as a whole rhymes in the form abba cddc effe gffg.) As
we recall from chapter 1, trochaic meter tends not to admit as much rhythmic var-
iation as does iambic, and that is certainly the case here. There are no inversions of
the trochees, and no trisyllabic feet. There is a strong caesura in the third stanza,
setting “Klage, klage fort” apart from “es weht, / der dich höret und versteht.”
Wild verwachsne dunkle Fichten, Wild, overgrown, dark firs,

Leise klagt die Quelle fort; Softly the spring continues to lament;
Herz, das ist der rechte Ort Heart, this is the right place
Für dein schmerzliches Verzichten! For your painful renunciation!
58. See the quote from Uhlig in Mahlert, Fortschritt und Kunstlied, 49–50.
59. See Finson, “Schumann’s Mature Style,” 249–50.
60. Finson, “Schumann’s Mature Style,” 246.
61. Mahlert, Fortschritt und Kunstlied, 98–115. Harald Krebs’s current work on Schumann also speaks
to the irregularities of the new style, and indeed, Krebs’s analytical techniques provide new insights
into Schumann’s manipulations of poetic rhythm. See Harald Krebs, “The Expressive Role of
Rhythm and Meter in Schumann’s Late Lieder,” Gamut 2, no. 1 (2009): 267–98. Krebs presented
further techniques for analysis in a keynote address, “Fancy Footwork: Distortions of Poetic
Rhythm in Robert Schumann’s Late Songs,” at the Fifteenth Biennial Symposium of Research in
Music Theory (Indiana University: 2008).
62. Finson, Robert Schumann, 206. Finson’s notes on “Einsamkeit” are valuable, and they complement
the analysis presented here.
Grauer Vogel in den Zweigen! A gray bird in the branches!

Einsam deine Klage singt, Sings your lament in a lonely fashion,
Und auf deine Frage bringt And your question is not answered
Antwort nicht des Waldes Schweigen. By the forest’s silence.
Wenn’s auch immer Schweigen bliebe, Even if it always remained silent,
Klage, klage fort; es weht, Lament, continue to lament; there wafts
Der dich höret und versteht, The one who hears and understands you,
Stille hier der Geist der Liebe. Softly here, the spirit of love.
Nicht verloren hier im Moose, Here in the moss it is not lost,
Herz, dein heimlich Weinen geht, Heart, your secret weeping,
Deine Liebe Gott versteht, God understands your love,
Deine tiefe, hoffnungslose!63 Your deep hopeless [love]!64
Example 5.6 (web) provides Schumann’s setting of the first two quatrains.
Overall, the lines of each couplet hang together, but each succeeding couplet seems
to begin anew, with no apparent memory for what has happened before. The music
documents a form of consciousness that is trapped in the present, apparently
unable to reflect back or think forward or back in time. Schumann’s setting of the
first line fills in the end of a four-bar dominant pedal in the piano, arriving with
“Fichten” on the tonic—and this is the fifth bar, as though there is to be a four-bar
hypermeter. The harmonic rhythm then accelerates, moving immediately through
iv to V. The rhythms of lines 1 and 2 are the same (except for the extra quarter of
“Fich-ten”), and one can hear an overall descent from Cb (6) to Gb (3) in the first
line, continuing on to F (2) in the second. And yet, while some combination of
two- and four-bar hypermeters seems to be emerging in the piano, the beginnings
of the two vocal phrases are three bars apart. The first vocal phrase arrives at a
hypermetric downbeat, the second arrives on the downbeat of the eighth, hyper-
metrically weak measure, and the tonic then slips in just after the voice, in the
second half of m. 8. Declamatory schema annotations show the shifting relation-
ship between the vocal phrases and the two-bar hypermeter. Beat numbers are
given in relation to the hypermeter, as though the song were notated in 4/2.
The setting of line 3 marks the first new beginning; we are now in B major
(equivalent to C b, or VI in E b minor) and the vocal line starts, for the first time, on
a downbeat. It is the affirmative setting of an address to the heart, “Heart, this is the
right place . . .” The fourth line is an echo of the third, intensified rhythmically, har-
monically, and melodically to reflect the sense of a “painful renunciation.” The
singer anticipates the F#-B melodic ascent (compare m. 11 with mm. 9–10), the
entire line is declaimed at a rate of one poetic foot per quarter, and the descent
extends beyond the G# to E# (over V7/V).
Then—and there is no way to account for this kind of discourse other than by
taking it in one thing at a time—we turn to something that recalls the opening
phrases. It is as though the memory is there, but it cannot be pinned down. How
63. Schumann, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke, vol. 8.2, Literarische Vorlagen, 284–85.
64. The translation is adapted from a translation by Sharon Krebs, available on “The Lied and Art Song
Texts Page,” http://www.recmusic.org/lieder/ (accessed November 19, 2008).
so? Line 5 repeats the rhythm of line 1; like line 1 it arrives on a hypermetric down-
beat (m. 15), and it outlines a descent from 5 to 3 , though here with an octave
displacement. Line 6 repeats the melodic outline of line 2, with a descent from 2 to
7 and back, though with different rhythms and harmonies. The beginnings of lines
5 and 6 are three bars apart, like the beginnings of lines 1 and 2, and both couplets
speak of nature’s lament. This higher-level parallelism itself breaks down; we get an
elision in m. 18, a resetting of the hypermetric downbeat, and something else new
for lines 7–8. (In other words, lines 7–8 do not recall lines 3–4.) Here, the poet
finds that his heart’s question is not answered by the forest’s silence, and this moti-
vates the rest of the poem and song.
Thus parallelisms and periodicities at multiple levels are set up and simulta-
neously undone. The musical discourse follows meaning in the poem, from cou-
plet to couplet. A full score shows that the song achieves parallel four-bar phrases
in Eb major for the consolation of the final stanza, “Nicht verloren hier im Moose, /
Herz, dein heimlich Weinen geht” (Here in the moss it is not lost, / heart, your
secret weeping). This is late Schumann: regular periodicities are present at
particular moments, but they are no longer assumed. This is Schumann composing
in 1850, as the nineteenth-century Lied pivoted between its earlier and later
histories.
CHAPTER Six
Brahms: Metric Cycles and Performative Time
With Brahms we enter into a new era and a late era. It is a new era in that it is the
second half of the nineteenth century: a period of increasing industrialization in
which Germany became a unified nation-state. It is a late era in the way it saw
itself, building on achievements that had been inaugurated earlier. Whereas
Schumann looked to the past to envision and create a new poetic future, Brahms
looked to the past with a historical mind—simply to look back. Of course Brahms
also created much that was new. Schoenberg’s essay “Brahms the Progressive”
first brought our attention to radical features of his oeuvre, which include his
treatment of rhythm and meter.1 But as Peter Burkholder has observed, Brahms
created new works that would enter into a museum of masterworks, which was
already being established.2 This was becoming true in the genre of the Lied,
though it is documented less often than in other genres. In the latter half of the
nineteenth century, this genre of intimate artistic circles and Hausmusik entered
onto the public stage—gradually at first and not without resistance, but then
with increasing frequency.3 Moving onto the public stage, it also began to estab-
lish a canon.
I offer here a “bouquet” of five song analyses to illuminate the variety and
intensity of rhythmic effects in Brahms’s songs. Brahms referred to his own song
collections as bouquets; with the exception of the Magelone Romances, Op. 33,
they were not cycles but rather groups of songs composed independently and then
brought together with attention to the order and arrangement. Near the end of his
life, Brahms complained that singers chose songs at will, with no attention to his
groupings, and recently several scholars have considered the nature of the song
1. Arnold Schoenberg, “Brahms the Progressive,” in Style and Idea, ed. Leonard Stein, trans. Leo Black
(New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1975), 398–441.
2. Peter Burkholder, “Brahms and Twentieth-Century Classical Music,” 19th-Century Music 8, no. 1
(1984): 75–83.
3. Edward F. Kravitt, “The Lied in Nineteenth-Century Concert Life,” Journal of the American
Musicological Society 18, no. 2 (1965): 207–18.
145
collections, arguing that we too should pay more attention to them.4 I nonetheless
offer my own group of songs spanning multiple collections to best illustrate the
range of rhythmic techniques.
Layered syncopations, hemiola cycles, irregular phrasing and declamation,
metric ambiguity, rhythmic transformations that effect changes of tempo—all of
these are common to the point of ubiquity in Brahms’s songs. Deborah Rohr has
categorized and catalogued such effects broadly.5 I will draw on and extend Rohr’s
work, focusing on five songs. I begin by comparing Brahms’s “In der Fremde” (In a
Foreign Land), Op. 3 No. 5, with Schumann’s setting of the same poem by
Eichendorff, a setting discussed in chapter 5. The comparison is illuminating:
whereas Schumann’s song works as a musical setting of the poetic text, Brahms’s
works more as a musical performance of a poetic reading. We will explore what
this means, and the analytical observations on “In der Fremde” will lead us to con-
sider Brahms’s attitudes toward song composition, passed down by his student
Gustav Jenner and others, as well as the nature of composition and performance in
a late period.
The second song, “Liebestreu” (Faithful Love), Op. 3 No. 1, illustrates the use of
rhythm and meter in dramatic contexts. We will find voices (i.e., roles) delineated
by rhythmic and metric means and conflict played out in the rhythmic domain.
The third and fourth songs, “Der Kuß” (The Kiss), Op. 19 No. 1, and “Die Mainacht”
(The May Night), Op. 43 No. 2, are both settings of asclepiadic odes by Hölty.
Metric features of the asclepiadic ode present special challenges, and Brahms
responds differently in these two songs. Both songs include asymmetrical phrase
structures (three and five bars long) and hemiolas involving not only the piano but
also the voice and poetic meter.
The fifth song, “Wenn du nur zuweilen lächelst” (If you only occasionally
smile), Op. 57 No. 2, illustrates a particularly strong connection between metric
and affective states. Triple relations at multiple levels correlate with the poet-lover’s
self-control and patience; duple relations break through at a moment of passion.
(“Undisguised sensuality” was typical of Daumer, the poet of “Wenn du nur
zuweilen lächelst,” and there is more of this to come in songs by Wolf and
Schoenberg.)6 “Wenn du nur zuweilen lächelst” is also the freest, most declamatory
4. Brahms’s complaint is recorded in Heinz von Beckerath, Erinnerungen an Johannes Brahms: Brahms
und seine Krefelder Freunde, (Krefeld: Verein für Heimatkunde in Krefeld und Nordingen, 1958), 4,
and cited in Imogen Fellinger, “Cyclic Tendencies in Brahms’s Song Collections,” in Brahms Studies:
Analytical and Historical Perspectives, ed. George S. Bozarth (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990), 380.
The most comprehensive discussion of the song collections is in Inge Van Rij, Brahms’s Song
Collections (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). Additional articles that have addressed
the issue include Marjorie Hirsch, “The Spiral Journey Back Home: Brahms’s ‘Heimweh’ Lieder,”
Journal of Musicology 22, no. 3 (2005): 454–89; and Ulrich Mahlert, “Die Hölty-Vertonungen von
Brahms im Kontext der jeweiligen Liederhefte,” in Brahms als Liedkomponist: Studien zum Verhältnis
von Text und Vertonung, ed. Peter Jost (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1992), 65–92.
5. Deborah Adams Rohr, “Brahms’s Metrical Dramas: Rhythm, Text Expression, and Form in the Solo
Lieder” (PhD diss., University of Rochester, NY, 1997).
6. See Lucien Stark, A Guide to the Solo Songs of Johannes Brahms (Bloomington: Indiana University
Press, 1995), 151.
CHAPTER 6 Brahms: Metric Cycles and Performative Time 147
setting in our collection, most distant from the folksong ideal. In this regard, it
illustrates the more dramatic side of Brahms’s song composition.
Brahms wrote songs throughout his long career. He wrote the Op. 3 songs in
the early 1850s as he first emerged on the musical scene and the Four Serious
Songs, Op. 121, in 1896, the year before his death.7 The songs that I discuss here
were written in the 1850s and ’60s. We will find changing emphases and increasing
levels of mastery over time, but the interest in performative temporality, syncopa-
tion, and hemiola cycles is there from the beginning. Indeed, it is already there in
Brahms’s 1852 setting of “In der Fremde,” written implicitly in competition with
Schumann’s song.
“In der Fremde,” Op. 3 No. 1 (Eichendorff ): The Musical

Performance of a Poetic Reading
In chapter 5 we explored poetic irregularities in Eichendorff ’s “In der Fremde,”

and Schumann’s response in his setting. The poetic irregularities in fact present
something of a conundrum for the composer, and Schumann’s multiple drafts left
a trace of his struggles. As we will see, Brahms responds differently to these
conundrums in his setting. Whereas Schumann favors the poetic syntax over the
couplet and stanza form, Brahms reproduces and intensifies the tension between
syntactic flow and poetic structure. Brahms’s song in this sense is more literally
a “reading” of the poem, whereas Schumann’s takes the poem as a text to be
re-formed at will.
It is clear that Brahms knew Schumann’s song; he uses the same key, sim-
ilar motives, and the text with changes made by Schumann. I reproduce
Eichendorff ’s poem here again. We may recall that lines 1–4 set up a pattern of
regularity with alternating tetrameter and trimeter lines, an abab rhyme
scheme, and other rhythmic parallelisms. (Lines 2 and 4 scan identically, and
lines 1 and 3 both begin with anapests.) The poetic syntax fits within the line
and couplet structures in lines 1–4. We may also recall that lines 5–8 unsettle
this regularity: there is a strong caesura in the middle of line 6 after “da ruhe
ich auch,” an enjambment flowing from the latter part of line 6 into line 7, and
line 8 sits awkwardly on its own (i.e., meaning does not flow within the couplet
from line 7 to 8).
7. Lucien Stark provides a general reference on Brahms’s songs; see Stark, A Guide to the Solo Songs
of Johannes Brahms. There are three valuable chapter-length surveys of the songs in English:
Virginia Hancock, “Johannes Brahms: Volkslied/Kunstlied,” in German Lieder in the Nineteenth
Century, ed. Rufus Hallmark (New York: Schirmer Books, 1996), 119–52; Michael Musgrave,
“Words for Music: The Songs for Solo Voice and Piano,” in The Cambridge Companion to Brahms,
ed. Michael Musgrave (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 195–227; Heather Platt,
“The Lieder of Brahms,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Lied, ed. James Parsons (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2004), 185–203. For an annotated bibliography of the literature on
Brahms’s songs up to 2003, see Heather Platt, Johannes Brahms: A Guide to Research (New York:
Routledge, 2003), 272–303.
1. Aus der Heimat hinter den Blitzen rot From my home beyond the red lightning
Da kommen die Wolken her, come the clouds,
Aber Vater und Mutter sind lange todt, But father and mother are long dead,
Es kennt mich dort keiner mehr. No one knows me there anymore.
5. Wie bald, wie bald kommt die How soon, how soon comes the quiet
stille Zeit, time,
Und keiner mehr kennt mich And no one will remember me even here.9
auch hier.8
Looking back to Schumann’s song from chapter 5 (ex. 5.3 (web) ), we recall
that he sets the first two couplets with a repeating four-bar phrase. The declamatory
schema is standard [1, 2 / 1, 2][1, 2 / 1 - ] for each couplet. The break between cou-
plets is thus produced in the conventional way, with a direct translation of poetic
meter into musical meter. Schumann then sets “Wie bald, ach wie bald kommt die
stille Zeit / da ruhe ich auch” (lines 5–6) in one six-bar phrase and “und über mir /
rauscht die schöne Waldeinsamkeit” (lines 6–7) in a second six-bar phrase. He thus
responds to the enjambment, linking the latter part of line 6 with line 7, but his song
does not reproduce the enjambment as such. One does not experience the poetic
line structure, and thus there is no sense of an enjambment between lines.
Brahms’s song is given in example 6.1 (web) . It begins with a four-bar
piano introduction that prefigures the vocal line (literally in the bass, in bars 1–2).
The song as a whole uses a varied strophic form, one of the most common of
Brahms’s forms.10 In this case, however, formal periodicities work at two levels. At
one level, each phrase (= couplet setting) begins with the same F# minor melody
(see mm. 5–6, 10–11, 17–18, and 22–23). At another level, each pair of phrases
(= quatrain settings) form a strophe, and the two strophes each begin with a shift
from F# minor (i) to A major (III) (see mm. 5–8 and 17–20). The latter phrases in
each strophe are different; in the first strophe there is a move to D major (VI)
(mm. 12–15), and in the second to F# major (I), inflected by a Brahmsian minor
subdominant (mm. 24–28). Thus formal units at both the phrase and strophe level
begin the same and end differently.
The varied strophic form is typical of Brahms, and while it is broadly related to
poetic structure, it seems divorced from poetic meaning. Brahms does not respond
to the change of sentiment at “Wie bald, ach wie bald kommt die stille Zeit” (How
soon, how soon comes the quiet time), for instance, as Schumann does. It is also
not clear how the shift to major keys within each phrase might be motivated poet-
ically. There are a number of ways to read the compositional choices. One may
8. Robert Schumann, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke, Vol. 8.2, Literarische Vorlagen der ein- und
mehrstimmigen Lieder, Gesänge und Deklamationen, ed. Helmut Schanze and Krischan Schulte
(Mainz: Schott, 2002), 85.
10. See the discussion of form in Heather Platt, “The Lieder of Brahms,” 186–89; and Hancock, “Johannes
Brahms: Volkslied/Kunstlied,” 122.
simply say that this is an early song that shows great potential but not the kind of
mastery that Schumann achieved in 1840, nor that Brahms himself would achieve
in other settings.11 One may also point to differences in conception; the reiterative
nature of Brahms’s setting suggests a kind of agitated numbness, different from the
broad longing of Schumann’s lyrical voice.12 There is yet something else in play
here, however: a new attention to performative temporality.
Consider first the setting of couplets one and two. Brahms sets these like
Schumann, with four-bar phrases and the declamatory schema [1, 2 / 1, 2][1, 2 / 1 -].
Brahms, however, adds an extra measure between the couplet-phrases with a
syncopated echo of the vocal cadence (mm. 8–9). The effect is quite distinctive;
musical time seems to be suspended for a moment as we transition from one cou-
plet to the next. To understand this effect, we need to observe not only that there
is an extra measure, but also that Brahms retracts the tonic arrival with the
syncopated dominant as if to say, “Wait . . . not quite yet.” (The dominant itself is
over a tonic pedal as if to say, “Well, yes, really we have arrived but we are going to
hang here for a moment.”) In other words, Brahms performs the break between
couplets musically in a way that goes beyond the direct translation of poetic form
into musical periodicities. At the same time, he links the couplets—across the
temporal break—with motivic connections. The piano echoes the end of the vocal
melody, and the vocal upbeat on “Aber” reproduces the piano’s syncopation, then
we are on our way.
Brahms performs the break after the second couplet in an even stronger
fashion, with three added measures and a reduction of the piano texture. The piano
echoes the vocal cadence twice with its syncopated figure, while the voice repeats
the fourth line on a monotone (mm. 13–14). (Brahms may have been drawing on
an association between monotone declamation and the voice of death, as in
Schubert’s “Der Tod und das Mädchen.”) Musical movement is then reduced—
liquidated, as Schoenberg would say—to a pure oscillation in eighths, and Brahms
marks a ritardando to go with this.13 The oscillation articulates only the most basic
levels of motion, the eighth and quarter. The singer and piano then reinitiate higher
metric levels with the fifth poetic line, “Wie bald, ach wie bald kommt die stille
Zeit.” In comparison, Schumann’s song moves directly into “Wie bald, ach wie
bald,” with no extra time.
Now, since Brahms begins each couplet with the same melody, he can set the
poetic enjambment as a musical enjambment, a thread that links independent
11. See the critical perspective in Christiane Jacobsen, Das Verhältnis von Sprache und Musik in aus-
gewählten Liedern von Johannes Brahms, dargestellt an Parallelvertonungen (Hamburg: Verlag der
Musikalienhandlung Karl Dieter Wagner, 1975), 398–99. Ludwig Finscher, on the other hand, feels
that Brahms’s song is highly successful; see Finscher, “Brahms’s Early Songs: Poetry Versus Music,”
in Brahms Studies: Analytical and Historical Perspectives, ed. George S. Bozarth (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1990), 339.
12. Lawrence Zbikowski uses conceptual blending theory to explore Eichendorff ’s poem and the set-
tings by Schumann and Brahms; see Zbikowski, Conceptualizing Music: Cognitive Structure, Theory,
and Analysis (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 272–84.
13. On liquidation, see Arnold Schoenberg, Style and Idea, ed. Leonard Stein, trans. Leo Black (New
York: St. Martin’s Press, 1975), 288.
musical phrases. Recall the line break and enjambment in the poem: “da ruhe ich
auch, und über mir / rauscht die schöne Waldeinsamkeit” (when I too will rest, and
over me / will rustle the lovely, lonely forest). Brahms sets “da ruhe ich auch, und ü-”
as the end of a phrase, like the earlier “da kommen die Wolken her” (mm. 7–8), but
he has the singer reach up to a sustained E5 for “ü-(ber)” (compare mm. 8 and 20).
Meanwhile the piano remains on the 6/4 chord over E in beats 1 and 3; it also avoids
resolution and thereby links the two phrases. The singer descends with the piano to
C# in m. 21 and syncopates “rauscht” over the bar line of m. 22, sliding into the new
phrase. The setting of “über mir” thus function musically as the end of one phrase
and link into the next, a musical enjambment to match that of the poem.14
Thus, Brahms chose to retain the tension between poetic structure (line) and
syntax in his setting, doing something that he knew Schumann had not. The song
becomes a musical performance of a poetic reading rather than a musical setting of
a poetic text. The same attention to performative temporality is evident in the extra
measure that separates the last two lines (m. 24). The last line stands on its own in
the poem, and Brahms separates it out in musical time.
Syncopation plays a special role in this song in the pauses and links between
poetic segments. We already noted the piano’s syncopated echo in m. 8, the singer’s
syncopated “Aber” of m. 9, and the vocal and piano syncopations in mm. 13–14.
These all involve second-beat accents and syncopation over the third beat. They
unsettle the internal metric constitution of the measures but, if anything, they rein-
force the basic notated measure. The syncopation introduced in mm. 20–21 is dif-
ferent; it involves a fourth-beat accent and a duration held over the bar line. The
destabilization effect is stronger, and the syncopation is more like the poetic enjamb-
ment since it links broader structural units. The singer picks up this syncopation
over the bar line with the “rauscht” of mm. 21–22, and the piano then takes it up in
the sudden F#M7 interjection of mm. 23–24. The beat 2–3 syncopation then returns
with the repetition of “keiner kennt mich mehr hier” (mm. 26–28), echoing those of
“kennt mich dort keiner mehr,” at the end of the first strophe (mm. 13–15).
With this analysis we get an initial feel for the importance of temporal flow in
Brahms’s settings, and especially the control of pauses and links between poetic
lines, couplets, and quatrains. To be sure, there are plenty of songs by Brahms that
translate simple poetic periodicities directly into musical rhythm, without extra
pauses. These include especially the folksong settings and volkstümliche Lieder.15
There are also songs that follow poetic syntax over form, setting enjambments in
continuous phrases. We shall see an example of this in “Der Kuß,” Op. 19 No. 1.16
14. Finscher also comments on Brahms’s treatment of this enjambment; see “Brahms’s Early Songs,” 339.
Deborah Witkin discusses the setting of poetic enjambment in similar terms; see Witkin, “The
Musical Treatment of Poetic Enjambement in Early Fifteenth-Century Rondeaux (BA thesis,
Wesleyan University, 2006), 24.
15. Virginia Hancock divides the songs into four categories: (1) settings of traditional texts with their
preexistent tunes [about 80]; (2) settings of folk texts with original folklike melodies [20]; (3) set-
tings of folk or folklike texts as art songs, but still with volkstümlich qualities (30); and (4) art songs
[148]. See Hancock, “Johannes Brahms: Volkslied/Kunstlied,” 123.
16. Musical form overrides stanza divisions in “An den Mond,” Op. 71 No. 2; see Rohr, “Brahms’s Metrical
Dramas,” 154–66.
The control of temporal flow to reflect an “in-time” reading of poetry was a new
resource, however, which Brahms developed more than anyone else.
Poetic Reading, Song Composition, and the

Later-Nineteenth-Century Lied
Brahms discussed song composition with his student Gustav Jenner, and Jenner’s
recollections provide evidence for the importance of poetic reading in Brahms’s
compositional process and song aesthetics. According to Jenner, Brahms recom-
mended that he (Jenner) first internalize the poem as dramatized utterance with
special attention to declamation and pauses:
He recommended to me that before composing I should carry the poem around with
me in my head for a long time and should frequently recite it out loud to myself, paying
close attention to everything, especially the declamation. I should also mark the
pauses especially and follow these later when I was working. “Just imagine to yourself
that Lewinsky were reciting this song,” he said once as we were discussing a song with
almost no pauses; “here he would certainly stop for a moment.” [italics added]17
Jenner goes on to comment on Brahms’s treatment of pauses with “Von ewiger

Liebe,” Op. 43 No. 1, as an example:
It is particularly pleasurable to observe the way that Brahms knew how to treat
these pauses in his songs, how they are often an echo of what precedes them, often
preparation for what follows (Von ewiger Liebe); how here, at times, the rhythm
undergoes an artistic development. . . . He placed great importance on these pauses
and their treatment, and they are, in fact, an unmistakable sign that the composer
is an artist who creates with freedom and assurance, not a dilettante groping in the
dark, influenced by every chance occurrence. [italics added]18
Example 6.2 (web) provides a score for the first strophe of “Von ewiger Liebe.”
The poem has tetrameter lines, which Brahms sets in four-bar subphrases. The
couplets are set in eight-bar phrases, and Brahms adds a measure between phrases
(m. 13), as in “In der Fremde.” The added measure in “Von ewiger Liebe,” however,
forces a hypermetric reinterpretation. The song proceeds with a regular two-bar
hypermeter, as though it were in 6/4. Annotations in the score show the hyper-
meter as a 2-layer (unit = h.). We experience the downbeat of m. 12—coming into
it—as the continuation of a hypermeasure, but the piano’s new D minor melody
overlaps with the vocal cadence and we reinterpret m. 12 as the beginning of a new
hypermeasure. The vocal line then continues with hypermetric downbeats on
17. Gustav Jenner, “Johannes Brahms as Man, Teacher, and Artist,” trans. Susan Gillespie, in Brahms and
His World, ed. Walter Frisch (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990), 197. Josef Lewinsky
was a famous tragic actor in Vienna.
18. Jenner, “Johannes Brahms as Man, Teacher, and Artist,” 197.
even-numbered bars. Analogous reinterpretations take place in m. 21 and through

most of the song.19
It is important to note that we are not dealing here with abstract Newtonian
time, but with the flow of musical time. “In der Fremde” combines expansion (an
extra measure) with disruption (syncopation and harmonic hiatus) and simplifica-
tion (reduction to a pure oscillation between quatrains). The first two strophes of
“Von ewiger Liebe” feature elision and hypermetric reinterpretation. We may also
recall the sudden shifts to a displaced downbeat (3+1 and 6+1) in “Das Mädchen
spricht,” discussed in chapter 2.
Brahms’s sensitivity to temporal flow might be interpreted primarily as
an advance of musical technique, a demonstration of Brahms’s progressive
credentials—as Schoenberg would have it. There is no doubt that Brahms was
fascinated with the effects of syncopation, displacement, hemiola, and metric
ambiguity—all those elements that create rich layerings and influence the temporal
flow—and that he developed these techniques in new ways. We may also situate this
fascination, however, in relation to Brahms’s mode of interpretation and historical
awareness. When Schubert, Schumann, or others in the first half of the nineteenth
century set a poem to music, they assumed certain default transformations of poetic
structure into musical rhythm and meter, altered these for expressive purposes, and
allowed the song to unfold as song. It was assumed in this sense that the music
“completes” the poem even as it interprets it, and indeed that the poem on its own
is deficient. (See the lines from Goethe’s poem “An Lina,” quoted in chap. 1.) For
Brahms, on the other hand, the poetic reading itself takes on significance, and the
musical setting reflects that reading. Brahms felt that many poems were complete in
and of themselves, that a musical setting could not add anything. For instance,
George Henschel quotes Brahms as saying, “Schubert’s Suleika songs are to me the
only instances where the power and beauty of Goethe’s words have been enhanced
by music. All other of Goethe’s poems seem to me so perfect in themselves that no
music can improve them.”20 Brahms in this sense treats the poem like a historical
object (whether it was old or new), as something that is given in and of itself. Thus,
if Schubert and Schumann’s songs are musical readings of the poems at hand,
Brahms’s songs are musical performances of poetic readings.
The connection that I am seeking to elaborate here is a rather unusual one, and
it deserves further comment. I suggest not only that Brahms’s songs function as
performances of poetic readings, but also that self-conscious performance is
closely linked with canonization, with the later nineteenth century, and with the
sense of a late period. A performance in this sense is the realization of something
given, a “work,” whether it be a poem or a composed song. The attitude is one of
greater distance, which takes the poetic reading as a given. It is no coincidence, it
19. Deborah Rohr observes that continual elisions of this sort create a “seamless flow of motion,” which
is also characteristic of many of Brahms’s instrumental works. Rohr, “Brahms’s Metrical Dramas,”
67. See also David Epstein, “Brahms and the Mechanisms of Motion: The Composition of
Performance,” in Brahms Studies: Analytical and Historical Perspectives, ed. George S. Bozarth
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990), 198–203.
20. George Henschel, Personal Recollections of Johannes Brahms: Some of His Letters to and Pages from
a Journal Kept by George Henschel (Boston: Richard G. Badger, 1907), 45.
seems to me, that this approach to musical settings of poetry emerged during the
same period when public performances of Lieder began to take hold.
Brahms developed a close personal and professional relationship with the bari-
tone Julius Stockhausen, one of the early proponents of public Lieder performance.
In the spring of 1856, Stockhausen presented the first complete performance of
Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin, and he and Brahms met and began to perform
together that same year. In 1861 Brahms would accompany Stockhausen in his first
performance of Dichterliebe, and Brahms then wrote his Magelone Lieder, Op. 33,
for Stockhausen. Stockhausen’s performance of Die schöne Müllerin in its entirety
was well received, but it was also considered something of an experiment. The typ-
ical practice of the time, when Lieder were presented publicly, was to sing one or
two songs in programs that also included arias, chamber pieces, choral movements,
and other works.21 The novelty of the idea and its role in furthering the canoniza-
tion of Schubert’s songs are both evident in a review by Eduard Hanslick:
Instead of the usual jumble of pieces that have no relationship to each other, we
read on the poster simply: Die schöne Müllerin, a cycle of songs by Franz Schubert.
As far as we know, the idea is new; and the concert, which was surprisingly well
attended, showed that it was a good idea. . . . Few composers in Vienna enjoy such
warm enthusiastic followers as Schubert. The expectation of hearing one of his
most fragrant bouquets of songs complete, and not, as is usually the case, as sepa-
rate flowers each torn from the bouquet, was like a public call upon all of Schubert’s
followers.22
We also have Brahms’s response to this experiment, in a letter to Clara Schumann.

Brahms approved of the complete performance, and he emphasized the importance
of knowing the poems on their own, apart from the songs: “Have [the songs of
Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin] sung to you all together, not separately, but—do not
forget to read the poems carefully first, to be able to experience the whole.”23
The notion of Brahms’s songs as musical performances of poetic readings goes
against an important strand of reception history, which faults Brahms for his dec-
lamation, implicitly comparing it with Hugo Wolf ’s declamation.24 There are
indeed awkward moments in Brahms’s declamation, but for the most part these
should not be understood as a failure of compositional insight. Rather they reflect
Brahms’s interest in rhythmic motives and metric disturbance. The musical
performance (i.e., composition) for Brahms should be musical, and this means
that motivic elements may take priority over declamatory realism. Brahms is said
to have remarked against the songs of Wolf, “Well, if one does not care about the
21. Kravitt, “The Lied in 19th-Century Concert Life,” 209.

22. Eduard Hanslick, Aus dem Concertsaal: Kritiken und Schilderungen aus den letzten 20. Jahren des
Wiener Musiklebens, 1848–1868 (Vienna: W. Braumüller, 1870), as translated in Kravitt, “The Lied in
19th-Century Concert Life,” 209.
23. Berthold Litzman, ed., Clara Schumann, Johannes Brahms: Briefe aus den Jahren 1853–1896 (Leipzig:
Breitkopf and Härtel, 1927), 1:189, quoted in Finscher, “Brahms’s Early Songs,” 332.
24. See Heather Platt, “Jenner Versus Wolf: The Critical Reception of Brahms’s Songs,” Journal of
Musicology 13, no. 3 (1995): 377–403.
music, the declaiming of a poem is very simple.”25 At the same time, the musical
elements, including any awkward declamation and other rhythmic disturbances,
are themselves aspects of expression closely related to the poem at hand.26
To illustrate this, we may return to Brahms’s “In der Fremde,” once again in
comparison with Schumann’s setting. Whereas Schumann’s vocal line flows with
alternating dotted and dactylic rhythms, Brahms’s insists somewhat squarely on the
quarter- and eighth-note pulses. (There are no dotted quarters and only one dotted
half in the entirety of Brahms’s song.) This is a musical rhythm, not directly related
to declamatory concerns. The motivic parallelism of mm. 5 and 7 is also a musical
device, not related to any parallelism in the text. The rhythm, however, contributes
to Brahms’s “poco agitato” conception, in which the protagonist is deeply unsettled,
and the rapid tonal shifts with their motivic parallelisms indicate an undercurrent
of shifting emotions. Vocal syncopations on “A-ber” (m. 9) and “mich” (mm. 27) are
awkward as vocal declamation; one would not emphasize the words in this way in a
reading. They relate to the motivic use of syncopation, however, and contribute to
the agitated state mode of expression. Thus, the compositional performance of a
poetic reading in Brahms’s aesthetic is not tied to declamatory realism. It is tied to
the temporal flow, including breaks between lines, couplets, and stanzas.
What exactly does it mean to say that the composition is a “performance” of a
poetic reading? After all, the composition exists today as a trace on paper, not as
sounding performance. The interesting thing about Brahms’s scores, however—
and here we are dealing not only with the songs—is that they dictate aspects of
temporal flow that typically fall in the hands of the performer. David Epstein has
shown how expressive variation, slowing at the ends of phrases and sections, and
shifts of tempo are composed into the rhythmic structure.27 This is not to say that
the performer has no room for interpretation, but in the domain of temporal flow
a great deal is given. Hugo Riemann also describes this aspect of Brahms’s tech-
nique, with reference to the songs: “Brahms . . . wrote precisely so, as the song
should be sung, and although naturally he also made use of performance designa-
tions . . . it is not at all infrequent that he expressed a Ritardando, for instance, in
note values that are in conflict with the meter.”28 We shall see plenty of examples of
this, and we shall find it first of all in “Liebestreu.”
“Liebestreu,” Op. 3 No. 1: Rhythm, Voice, and Dramatic Conflict
Whereas “In der Fremde” is a lyric poem, sung privately by the poet, “Liebestreu” is
in the tradition of Rollengedichte (character poems), with the singer taking two
roles. The voices (i.e., roles) are distinguished rhythmically, and the drama is enacted
25. Richard Heuberger, Erinnerungen an Johannes Brahms: Tagebuchnotizen aus den Jahren 1875 bis
1897, ed. Kurt Hofmann, 2nd ed. (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1976), 41, quoted in Finscher, “Brahms’s
Early Songs,” 332.
26. Deborah Rohr develops this point of view as well; see Rohr, “Brahms’s Metrical Dramas.”
27. Epstein, “Brahms and the Mechanisms of Motion.” See especially pp. 198, 206, and 225.
28. Hugo Riemann, “Die Taktfreiheiten in Brahms’ Liedern,” Die Musik 12, no. 1 (1912): 11.
in the rhythmic and metric domains.29 Brahms wrote “Liebestreu” in January 1853,
shortly after “In der Fremde,” and he placed it at the head of Op. 3, his first song
publication. It has remarkable dramatic power. As Lucien Stark puts it, “Its place in
Brahms’s oeuvre is like that of ‘Gretchen am Spinnrade’ in Schubert’s—astonishing,
from so youthful a composer, in its power and originality, and already displaying all
the traits of mature mastery.”30 In the spring of 1853, Brahms played it for Josef
Joachim, the young virtuoso violinist who would be a close friend and collaborator
with Brahms for many years, and Joachim described it as a revelation.31
“Liebestreu” is a dialogue between mother and daughter in three quatrains
(see below). In the first couplet of each stanza, the mother urges her daughter to
sink her pain in the sea, to break off her love, for fidelity (Treue) is only a word. The
daughter responds in the second couplets that her pain will rise again from the sea,
her love will not break like a flower, and her fidelity will endure. The voices of
mother and daughter are rhythmically distinct already in the poem, even as they
inhabit the joint space of volkstümlich quatrains with alternating tetrameter and
trimeter lines. (Rhythmic and expressive features of the poem were introduced in
chapter 1; I review and explore them further here.) The mother’s speech is repeti-
tive and insistent. The first line, “O versénk,’ o versénk’ dein Leíd, mein Kínd,” for
instance, pulsates with the beat of repetitions and poetic feet (two anapests and
two iambs) even apart from Brahms’s setting. Commas separate poetic feet 1–2
and 3–4 in this first line. The second line then has one phrase, “In die Sée” (an ana-
pest), and an intensified repetition, “in die tiéfe Sée!” (an anapest and iamb). Similar
insistence characterizes the mother’s speech in the second stanza (“Brich sie áb,
brich sie áb”) and the third (“Und die Tréu,’ und die Tréu’ ”). All of the mother’s
lines except for the last are broken up by internal commas. The daughter’s speech
is more flowing; her couplets in the first two stanzas have neither repetition nor
internal punctuation. In the final stanza, however, the daughter’s speech takes on
characteristics of the mother’s; each line in the final couplet includes a comma
within it. It is also at this moment that the daughter addresses her mother directly,
with the words “O Mutter.” Brahms’s setting reflects these rhythmic features of
speech and intensifies them many times over.
“O versenk,’ o versenk’ dein Leid, mein “Oh drown, oh drown your sorrow,
Kind, my child,
In die See, in die tiefe See!” In the sea, in the deep sea!”
Ein Stein wohl bleibt auf des Meeres A stone may remain at the bottom of
Grund, the sea,
Mein Leid kommt stets in die Höh.’ My sorrow always rises to the surface.
(continued )
29. Brahms’s “Von ewiger Liebe,” Op. 43 No. 1, also uses rhythm and meter to distinguish between voices
and enact a drama. The metric transition from one “voice” to another in the middle of “Von ewiger
Liebe” is especially noteworthy. See Richard Cohn, “Complex Hemiolas, Ski-Hill Graphs, and Metric
Spaces,” Music Analysis 20, no. 3 (2001), 312–21; and Yonatan Malin, “Metric Dissonance and Music-
Text Relations in the German Lied” (PhD diss., University of Chicago, 2003), 179–93.
30. Stark, A Guide to the Solo Songs of Johannes Brahms, 10.
31. Jan Swafford, Johannes Brahms: A Biography (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1997), 64.
“Und die Lieb,’ die du im Herzen trägst, “And the love, that you bear in your
heart,
Brich sie ab, brich sie ab, mein Kind!” Break it off, break it off, my child!”
Ob die Blum’ auch stirbt wenn man sie Though the flower dies when broken
bricht, off,
Treue Lieb’ nicht so geschwind. Faithful love does not die so quickly.
“Und die Treu,’ und die Treu,’ ‘s war nur And fidelity, fidelity, ’twas only a word,
ein Wort
In den Wind damit hinaus.” Throw it to the wind.”
O Mutter, und splittert der Fels auch im O mother, even if the rock splinters in
Wind, the wind,
Meine Treue, die hält ihn aus.32 My fidelity, it endures.33
Brahms’s song, given in example 6.3 (web) , is again in a modified strophic

form (as in “In der Fremde”). The second strophe is like the first, but poco più
mosso. The third strophe begins like the others, ancoro più mosso, but the daugh-
ter’s couplet is radically transformed in ways that I shall discuss. The drama of the
song plays out within strophes 1 and 2—as in the poem—and then in the transfor-
mation of strophe 3 and the denouement from m. 29 to the end.
Brahms layers metric and tonal dissonance in particularly vivid ways for the
mother’s couplets at the beginning of each strophe. First of all, we get the
combined triple and duple divisions of the tactus (triplet and normal eighths)
that are so common in Brahms, here between the piano left hand/vocal line and
pulsating chords in the right hand. We also get a displacement dissonance bet-
ween the left hand and vocal line; the piano’s long duration (quarter) arrives
together with the singer’s short-duration upbeats (eighths). Finally, it is significant
that both the piano and vocal figures begin with dissonant lower neighbors on
the beat.
Brahms’s “O versenk, o versenk” sets word repetition with motivic repetition.
The vocal line then reaches up quickly to its high point on Gb5 (3̂) for the word
“Leid” (sorrow), skipping over the Eb5 (upper tonic). The predominant harmony
arrives in the second half of bar 3 and is sustained over the bar line in a harmonic-
rhythm syncopation; the phrase then ends with a half cadence as the vocal line
descends to F4 (m. 5). The declamatory schema is straightforward: [1, 2 / 1, 2][1, 2
/ 1 -] for the tetrameter and trimeter couplet.
The daughter’s musical voice is more fluid, like her poetic voice, and less beset
by rhythmic and tonal dissonance. Triplet eighths in the right hand continue to
conflict with the occasional normal eighth in the left hand and voice, but the effect
is softened because the left hand and voice move together in dotted rhythms, and
there are no accented lower neighbors. The daughter also has a structural line that
rises gradually from Cb5 to Db5 (mm. 6–7) and then Db5-D5-Eb5 (mm. 9–10) as
the harmony moves to Gb major (III) and Cb major (VI). (Compare this with the
mother’s rapid arpeggiation to a high point and subsequent descent.) The daughter’s

33. The translation is adapted from Stark, A Guide to the Solo Songs of Johannes Brahms, 9.
reach up to Gb5 on “Leid” (m. 8) matches the mother’s Gb5, also on “Leid” (m. 3),
but the daughter sustains the pitch freely as the piano oscillates between dominant
and fully diminished sevenths. The Leid seems to mix pain with pleasure, and the
daughter would gladly sustain it. What Brahms does here with the declamatory
schema is significant, for the [1, 2 / 1, 2] setting of the tetrameter line (“Ein Stein
wohl bleibt auf des Meeres Grund”) leads directly into an expansive [1 - / 1 - / 1]
setting for the trimeter line (“mein Leid kommt stets in die Höh”). The augmenta-
tion of declamatory rhythm suggests that the sorrow rises slowly—but more sig-
nificantly, in the second strophe, that love will not break off so quickly, “nicht so
geschwind” (see mm. 18–20).
The conflict between mother and daughter has been indirect up to this point,
in the poem and in Brahms’s reading. The daughter responds in her own rhythmic
and tonal space, and we may also note Brahms’s träumerisch (dreamily) marking
for her first response (m. 6) and Tempo I marking for the second (pickup to m. 16).
It is in the last strophe that the daughter responds in the mother’s rhythmic and
tonal space (mm. 26–29). The rhythmic space is exactly like the mother’s, with
pulsating triplet eighths in the right hand and conflicting upbeat- and downbeat-
oriented rhythms in the voice and left hand. Repeating motives in the vocal line set
the daughter’s broken speech as they had the mother’s. The tonal space is the same,
but transformed from minor to major. The daughter reaches up triumphantly in
Eb major to G5 and then further to the song’s registral climax on Ab5 for the critical
word “Treue” (fidelity). Dramaturgically, one imagines the daughter sitting and
looking dreamily out into the distance in strophes 1 and 2, perhaps through a
window that reveals fields and the sea beyond (of which they speak). In strophe 3,
she would rise, look at her mother, and respond with the full power of her voice
and passion. This is the performative force of rhythm in Brahms’s hands, as it joins
with text, harmony, line, and motive.
The denouement is literally an unraveling, with indeterminacies in rhythm
and harmony, and then closure. The transformations are incremental and radical
at the same time, and this is of the essence for Brahms’s technique. Rhythmically,
the quarter note of the piano rhythm is simply held over into the following eighth
(left hand, mm. 29–32). The tight conflict of overlapping motives thereby gives
way to the deferral of syncopations, and an effect of schwebende Zeit (hovering
temporality). At the same time, the tonality becomes indeterminate: the domi-
nant seventh, V7 in Eb, becomes a fully diminished seventh (m. 29) and then
shifts via a chromatic voice exchange with enharmonic reinterpretation to V7/Gb
(m. 30). The bass moves up by half steps, <B-C-Db>, and the tenor moves down
by a whole and half step, <D-C-Cb(=B)>, while the alto and soprano remain on
the F/Ab dyad. There is a resolution to a Gb tonic (m. 31) but only as a 6/4 chord,
and the singer then proceeds with a structural descent and perfect authentic
cadence in Eb minor.
There is further delay, then, for the sake of more definitive closure. The left-hand
rhythm returns and is further transformed as the right-hand tonic chords continue
to pulsate. The gradual expansion of rhythm is a composed deceleration of the kind
that Riemann mentions, working together with the performance indication sempre
rit. e dim. sin al fine (m. 29). We may take a moment to work through the rhythmic
changes, for it is precisely such transformations that are so varied and characteristic
in Brahms’s songs. The basic left-hand rhythm <qrq> expands via partial augmen-
tation to a three quarter pattern, <qrh> (mm. 33–34). This three-quarter pattern
then expands via full augmentation (x2) to a six-quarter pattern, <q q w> (mm.
34–35). The varied forms of augmentation are significant, but what is also significant
is the relationship of the rhythms to half- and whole-note pulses, which one may
continue to project. The three-quarter version, in its first and second iterations,
effects a shift from downbeat to upbeat orientation. It resolves the displacement
dissonance by taking what would be a fourth-beat agogic accent and delaying it
until the downbeat. If the three-quarter pattern were to continue, we would get
further shifts and an expansive hemiola-type cycle. Instead, the full augmentation
brings us to another downbeat arrival. When we arrive on the rumbling Eb1, there
is no doubt about the finality of the gesture. What it means for the confrontation of
mother and daughter is another question. The meaning may be finality itself, or per-
haps that fidelity will be carried to the grave and soon.
Two Asclepiadic Ode Settings
With “Der Kuß,” Op. 19 No. 1, and “Die Mainacht,” Op. 43 No. 2, we turn to explore
Brahms’s treatment of a more complex poetic form, the asclepiadic ode. The ascle-
piadic ode is one of the Greek forms adapted in the eighteenth century by Klopstock
and then by Hölty and others; “Der Kuß” and “Die Mainacht” are by Hölty. As we
shall see, Brahms follows the poetic form closely in the first strophe of “Die
Mainacht.” In his biography of Brahms from the beginning of the twentieth century,
Kalbeck went so far as to say that Brahms’s song first revealed the “gracious Greek
form” of Hölty’s poem in “its true light.”34 In “Der Kuß,” Brahms develops phrase
structures that override the poetic form, but he produces a pointed conclusion at
the end of each strophe, like that of the ode form. Both songs draw out a hemiola
that is inherent in the asclepiadic line itself, though they do so in different ways.
Brahms had a special affinity for the eighteenth-century poet Hölty. Here again
we find evidence of Brahms’s historical bent of mind and cautious attitude toward
the poetic source. This is not to say that Brahms sought out an authoritative source
for the poetry; as we shall see, he seems to have used a heavily edited edition from
1804. As in his attitude to folksong, he was not interested in issues of authenticity.
Nonetheless, given the poem at hand, he was cautious about how music might
interact with the words, anxious about his own contribution to the blend. In a
34. Max Kalbeck, Johannes Brahms (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1976), 2:134, quoted in Joachim Draheim,
“Die Welt der Antike in den Liedern von Johannes Brahms,” in Brahms als Liedkomponist, ed. Peter
Jost (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1992), 58. Even Jack Stein, who is generally critical of text-
music relations in Brahms’s songs, observes that “the first [strophe of ‘Die Mainacht’] is set with
great beauty and remarkable fidelity to the nuances of the metrical structure of the ode, so that for
the first strophe poem and music are indeed in perfect accord.” Jack M. Stein, Poem and Music in
the German Lied from Gluck to Hugo Wolf (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971), 142.
letter from 1869 to his friend Adolf Schubring, Brahms wrote about “my dear
Hölty, for whose beautiful warm words my music is not strong enough, otherwise
you would see his verses more often in my works.”35 It seems to have been the
deeply personal and melancholy mood of Hölty’s poems that spoke to Brahms
across the century. Whereas Schubring apparently found Hölty’s “Mainacht” hyper-
sentimental and extravagant, for Brahms it was deeply felt.36 It may also have been
the formal complexities that intrigued him, at least in the case of “Der Kuß” and
“Die Mainacht.”37
“Die Mainacht,” Op. 43 No. 2
Brahms wrote “Die Mainacht” in 1866 and first performed it with Stockhausen in
1868. The poem was originally published in 1775, but Brahms used the version
edited by Johann Heinrich Voss, available in an edition from 1804.38 I provide the
first stanza below with a scansion and translation. The ode structure, which is evi-
dent here, involves two hexameter lines, called asclepiads, a trimeter line and a
tetrameter line. All four lines begin with a trochee followed by a dactyl. The hex-
ameter asclepiads have an implicit caesura in the middle, between the two adjacent
stressed syllables: - u - u u - / - u u - u - . The first trimeter segment may be
described, somewhat unconventionally, as a trochee (- u), a dactyl (- u u), and a
single stressed syllable (-). The second half reverses the trochee and dactyl, ending
again with the single stressed syllable.39 This description is relevant to Brahms’s
hemiola cycles, not only here but also in “Der Kuß.” A more conventional analysis,
following classical metrics, describes the asclepiad as a trochee (- u) followed by a
choriamb (trochee and iamb combined: - u u -) in the first half and a choriamb (- u
u -) followed by an iamb (u -) in the second.40 This latter description brings out the
mirroring chiastic structure: the fact that the second half is a retrograde of the first,
which is relevant to the contour of Brahms’s setting.41 The “Mainacht” stanza as a
35. Quoted in Mahlert, “Die Hölty-Vertonungen von Brahms,” 65.

36. See the comments by Kalbeck quoted in Mahlert, “Die Hölty-Vertonungen von Brahms,” 65n4.
37. Brahms set four other poems by Hölty; “Die Schale der Vergessenheit,” Op. 46 No. 3, and “An ein
Veilchen,” Op. 49 No. 2, have relatively complex meters, and “An die Nachtigall,” Op. 46 No. 4, and
“Minnelied,” Op. 71 No. 5, are in simpler forms.
39. See Deborah J. Stein and Robert Spillman, Poetry into Song: Performance and Analysis of Lieder
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), 43–45.
40. See Kalbeck, Johannes Brahms, 2:134–35, and Walter Frisch, Brahms and the Principle of Developing
Variation (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984), 106–107. The New Princeton Encyclopedia
of Poetry and Poetics identifies the asclepiad with two syllables of indeterminate length at the
beginning, in the form x x - u u - - u u - u -, and describes it as “a glyconic (x x - u u - u -) internally
compounded with a choriamb.” See “Asclepiad” in Alex Preminger and T. V. F. Brogan, eds., The New
Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993), 102.
The last line of the quatrain on its own is glyconic.
41. Ira Braus explores Brahms’s interest in the chiasmus schema and its manifestations in the text and
music of “Liebe und Frühling,” Op. 3 No. 3. See Braus, “Brahms’s ‘Liebe und Frühling,’ Op. 3, No. 3:
A New Path to the Artwork of the Future?” 19th-Century Music 10, no. 2 (1986): 137–38.
whole is one sentence with three conditional clauses and a conclusion. The energy
of the stanza is thus directed toward the last line, “Wand’l ich traurig von Busch zu
Busch” (I wander sadly from bush to bush).
Wánn der sílberne Mónd / dúrch die Gesträ́uche blínkt,

Únd sein schlúmmerndes Lícht / ǘber den Rásen streut,
Únd die Náchtigall flö́tet,
Wánd’l ich tráurig von Búsch zu Búsch.42
When the silver moon gleams through the bushes,
And spreads its sleepy light over the grass,
And the nightingale sings
I wander sadly from bush to bush.43
Example 6.4 provides a score for the first strophe of Brahms’s song, setting the
first stanza. We shall be concerned here only with this first strophe, to get a sense
for a setting that matches the poetic meter closely. (The song as a whole is in an
ABA1 form. The B section departs from the poetic form to follow the syntax, as the
poet turns away from nature to dwell on his trauma. The A1 section begins like the
A section, but it then also moves into a mode of expansive lyricism that overrides
the poetic form. Brahms leaves out the second of four poetic stanzas in his song.)44
The vocal setting for lines 1–2 of the first stanza is relatively straightforward:
stressed syllables are situated on beats 1 and 3, each poetic foot is set in a half-note
span, and the two hexameter lines are set in a pair of three-measure phrases.
Trochees are set with even quarters (e.g., “Wann der” and “und sein”), dactyls with
dactylic rhythms (e.g., “silberne” and “schlummerndes”), and the stressed syllables
at the ends of line segments with half notes ( “Mond,” “blinkt,” and “Licht”). The
dotted rhythm of “Rasen streut” in m. 8 is the only departure from this rhythmic
model. As both Kalbeck and Frisch observe, the ascent and descent of the melodic
line beautifully match the chiastic structure of the hexameter lines.45
We may also notice, however, that the trimeter line segments form reverse hemi-
olas, dividing each three-measure span in two. I have indicated the declamatory
schemas for these line segments above the vocal line: they are set as [1 - 3 - / 1 -]
[3 - / 1 - 3 -]. To be sure, the piano does not convey the notated meter very strongly
in the first four measures. Stein and Spillman suggest a hearing in which the initial
measure and a half is a 3/2 bar, with the 6/4 chord on the second half of m. 2 as a new
downbeat. The 6/4 chord is then repeated, and we may hear a second 3/2 bar through

44. Walter Frisch provides a compelling analysis of form and developing variation in “Die Mainacht”;
see Frisch, Brahms and the Principle of Developing Variation, 105–109. For further commentary on
the song, see Jacobsen, Das Verhältnis von Sprache und Musik, 233–59; Mahlert, “Die Hölty-
Vertonungen von Brahms,” 75–79; Stein and Spillman, Poetry into Music, 187–88; and Stein, Poem
and Music in the German Lied, 142–44.
45. See Kalbeck, Johannes Brahms, 2:134–35; and Frisch, Brahms and the Principle of Developing
Variation, 106–107.
Example 6.4: Brahms, “Die Mainacht,” Op. 43 No. 2, first strophe

Sehr langsam und ausdrucksvoll [1 3 1] [3

Wann der sil - ber - ne Mond durch die Ge -

5 1 3] [1 3 1] [3 1 3]

sträu - che blinkt und sein schlum-merrn-des Licht ü - ber den Ra - sen streut,

9

und die Nach - ti - gall flö - tet, wandl ich trau - rig von

12

Busch zu Busch.

to the downbeat of m. 4 (notated).46 There are features that encourage a common

time hearing, however. The first three-note chord in the left hand falls on the down-
beat of m. 2, and the vocal entrance itself is a significant event on the downbeat of
m. 3. Harmonic rhythm then contributes clearly to the notated meter from m. 5 on.
By hearing the vocal phrases in relation to the notated 4/4, we sense a lovely trans-
feral of poetic rhythm into musical rhythm. We hear the independent trimeter line
segments linked together through the middle of a metric span (notated mm. 4 and
7). This interpretation may help singers sustain the long three-bar phrase, and for
listeners it conveys the elastic continuity of the broad hexameter lines.
As it turns out, the hemiola is also embedded in the vocal line itself, with
rhythms derived from the poetic meter. On the one hand, half notes mark the end
of each line segment and thereby contribute to the 3-layer (unit = h ). On the other
hand, the even quarters land consistently on beats 1–2 and the dactylic rhythms on
beats 3–4; these parallelisms contribute to the 2-layer (unit = h ). Example 6.5 pro-
vides the vocal line with letters indicating the rhythmic content of each half-note
span. This forms an <a b c / b a c> series. The recurrence of “a” (even quarters) and
“b” (dactylic rhythms) contributes to the 2-layer; “c” (single half note) events mark
the end of the 3-layer segments (unit = h ). Recall that these rhythms are derived
directly from the asclepiadic line, as we first analyzed it, the pattern <trochee,
dactyl, accented end/dactyl, trochee, accented end>.
Example 6.5: Brahms, “Die Mainacht,” first strophe (vocal line)
a b c b a c

Wann der sil - ber - ne Mond durch die Ge - sträu - che blinkt
a b c b (a) (c)

4

und sein schlum - mern- des Licht ü - ber den Ra - sen streut,
Lines 3–4 of the first poetic stanza then settle into the notated meter. The tri-
metric third line is set with a [1 - 3 - / 1 - - -] schema (with final weak syllable on
beat 3); the tetrametric fourth line is set normally with the penultimate foot
stretched out to arrive on the downbeat. The piano notably does not articulate the
downbeat or third beat in support of “und die Nachtigall flötet,” and Schumannesque
delayed doublings depict the nightingale’s flutelike tones. The vocal cadence, fur-
thermore, is not supported by tonic arrival in the bass; this is delayed until the
second half of m. 14. Nonetheless, as the voice settles into the notated 4/4 and two-
bar spans, it conveys the sense of the poetic form, with its resolution and conclusion
in shorter line lengths.
46. Stein and Spillman suggest this as one among several hearings, commenting especially on the
placement of 6/4 chords. See Poetry into Music, 184–85.
To place this setting in context, we may compare it with a lovely and very dif-
ferent setting by Schubert. Schubert wrote his “Die Mainacht,” D. 194, in the spring
of 1815; it is one of 23 Hölty settings (all but one written in 1815–16).47 Example
6.6 provides the vocal line and text for the first strophe. Schubert’s song is entirely
strophic; this marks it as a different kind of a setting, more in the eighteenth-cen-
tury style, without the explicit musical dramatization that is evident in Brahms’s
ABA1 setting. (Schubert sets all four stanzas of the poem, whereas Brahms leaves
out the second.) The pacing is also very different; Brahms’s song is marked “Sehr
langsam und ausdrucksvoll” (very slowly and full of expression); Schubert’s is
“Ziemlich geschwind” (fairly fast). As Graham Johnson observes, “The Brahms is
all spacious introspection, the atmosphere of his song takes its mood from the
‘schlummerndes Licht’ of the poem’s second line. On the other hand, however
asleep the light, Schubert feels that his protagonist is far too unhappy and restless
to melt into a soporific background of nature at rest.”48 And what about the declam-
atory rhythm? Schubert works the irregular line lengths into a regular four- and
eight-bar phrase structure in 2/2 meter. He sets the trimeter line segments with the
upbeat schema [2 / 1 - / 1][2 / 1 - / 1], stretching out the second foot of each seg-
ment. (It is intriguing that he does not use the common [1, 2 / 1 - ] schema.) He
then expands the declamation for the third and fourth lines to fill out the four-bar
phrases. “Flötet” and the parallel words in following strophes are stretched to fill
two bars, with the turn figure from the opening as an expressive melisma (perfect
for “flötet,” not as directly relevant to the text in later strophes). The irregular
Example 6.6: Schubert, “Die Mainacht,” D. 194 (vocal line)
Ziemlich geschwind [2 1 - 1] [2 1 -

Wann der sil - ber - ne Mond durch die Ge - sträu - che
6 1] [2 1 - 1] [2 1 - 1]

blinkt, und sein schlum - mern - des Licht ü - ber den Ra - sen streut,
11

und die Nach - ti - gall flö - tet, wandl’ ich
Fine
16
&
!

trau - rig von Busch zu Busch. Se - lig
47. See John Reed, The Schubert Song Companion (New York: Universe Books, 1985), 466–67.
48. Liner notes to The Hyperion Schubert Edition 15, CDJ33015.
periodicities of the poetic lines are subsumed within the regular four- and eight-
bar phrasing.49
“Der Kuß,” Op. 19 No. 1
“Der Kuß” is the earlier of the two asclepiadic settings; Brahms wrote it in 1858,
and it was published as the first of the Op. 19 songs in 1862. Brahms seems first to
have discovered the hemiolic properties of the asclepiadic lines here. We shall also
find that he responds to poetic syntax over form and draws out the expressive
implications of asymmetrical five- and three-bar phrasing.
The poem that Brahms set corresponds once again with that of Voss’s highly
edited 1804 edition.50 It is playfully erotic in the first stanza and more intense in the
second; in both respects it foreshadows the Daumer verses that Brahms would set in
the following years. (We shall consider the Daumer setting “Wenn du nur zuweilen
lächelst” next.) The two stanzas follow the asclepiadic ode form closely with one
exception: a strict reading in accordance with the form would place an awkward
accent on the last syllable of “schwébendés” (stanza 1, line 2), but a more natural
reading follows the enjambment, “schwébendes / Bíld im Áuge.” Punctuation marks
within the lines are notable; there are commas at the implicit caesuras in lines 2 and
5 and a full period at the caesura in line 6. Gustav Jenner, Brahms’s composition stu-
dent mentioned earlier in this chapter, comments on the importance of punctuation
for the song composer: “Just as the poet, in his purposeful construction, ties his
sentences more or less closely together using commas, semicolons, periods, etc., as
his external signs, so the musician, similarly, has at his disposal perfect and imperfect
cadences in a variety of forms.”51 This indeed is Brahms’s practice in “Der Kuß.”
1. Unter Blüten des Mai’s spielt’ ich mit ihrer Hand,

Kos’te liebend mit ihr, schaute mein schwebendes
Bild im Auge des Mädchens,
Raubt’ ihr bebend den ersten Kuß.
5. Zuckend fliegt nun der Kuß, wie ein versengend Feu’r
Mir durch Mark und Gebein. Du, die Unsterblichkeit
Durch die Lippen mir sprühte,
Wehe, wehe mir Kühlung zu!52
49. For further comparisons between the Schubert and Brahms settings, see Jacobsen, Das Verhältnis
von Sprache und Musik, 220–59; and Stein and Spillman, Poetry into Music, 222–26. Brahms’s song
may also be compared with a setting of “Die Mainacht” by Hensel, written in 1838 and published
posthumously as Op. 9 No. 6. Hensel in fact anticipates Brahms in several respects: she sets the
asclepiads in three-measure spans and the trimeter line segments with the reverse-hemiola schema
[1, 2 / 1][2 / 1, 2]. Hensel’s song is in 6/4; the trochees and dactyls are thus set with <h q> and
<q. eq> rhythms, respectively.
50. Hölty’s poem had four stanzas; the Voss version uses the third and a conglomeration of other
stanzas. See Stark, A Guide to the Solo Songs of Johannes Brahms, 52–53.
51. Jenner, “Johannes Brahms as Man, Teacher, and Artist,” 198. In this connection, see also Heather
Platt, “The Lieder of Brahms,” 190–93, and “Text-Music Relationships in Lieder of Johannes Brahms”
(PhD diss., City University of New York, 1992), 58–63.
1. Under May blossoms I toyed with her hand,

Caressed her lovingly, gazed at my floating
Image in the girl’s eye,
Trembling, stole the first kiss from her.
5. Flaring, the kiss now races like a searing fire
through my marrow and bones. You, who sprinkled
Immortality upon me with your lips,
Wave, wave coolness upon me!53
Brahms’s song is given in example 6.7 (web) . There is a direct, volkstüm-

lich quality to the song through most of the first strophe, evident in the diatonic
harmony, bass pedal tones, simple stepwise melody, doubling of the voice, and
relatively sparse piano texture with parallel sixths (up to m. 13). Brahms had been
engaged with folksong settings in 1856–58 (the Volks-kinderlieder, Neue
Volkslieder, and Lieder und Romanzen, Op. 14), and the folk aesthetic continues
to be evident here. It was in 1860, just two years after the composition of “Der
Kuß” and two years before its publication that Brahms wrote to Clara Schumann,
“Songs are sailing such an erroneous course nowadays that one cannot impress
the ideal too sharply on oneself. And that’s what folk-song is for me.”54 Measures
13–17 introduce a new chorale-like texture with suspensions and chromaticism.
In mm. 18–22 the singer and piano arpeggiate together through the dominant,
over its own dominant.
The song as a whole is in a particular kind of modified strophic form in which
the latter part of the strophes is the same, or at least nearly so. Measures 23–32
depart from the model of the first strophe, and mm. 33–42 return to the music of
mm. 13–22 with thicker voicing and a higher register in the piano. The beginning
of the second strophe is quite distinct, with new keys (C minor, D minor, G minor)
and rhythmic effects that we shall discuss; the form thus may also be conceived as
ternary, AB½A. A brief introduction sets up the repeating bass figure, and there is
a postlude with an expanded repetition of the final words, “Kühlung zu!”
Now, the intriguing thing is that Brahms sets up a model of five-bar phrases,
not six-bar phrases to match the hexameter lines.55 Table 6.1 shows how the poetic
lines (left column) are situated in the five-bar phrases (right column). Scansion
marks in the left column indicate the poetic accents; in the right column they show
downbeat placement in the song. Thus, Brahms sets “Unter” as an upbeat in the
first phrase, he repeats “kóste líebend” in the second, and “scháute mein schwében-
des Bíld im Áuge des Mä́dchens” flows through the poetic enjambment as the third
musical phrase. One imagines that the five-bar phrase concept may have come
53. The translation is adapted from Stark, A Guide to the Solo Songs of Johannes Brahms, 52–53.
54. Letter to Clara Schumann, 27 January 1860, in Johannes Brahms: Life and Letters, selected and
annotated by Styra Avins, trans. by Josef Eisinger and Styra Avins (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1997), 212. For further remarks on the song’s volkstümlich characteristics, see Mahlert, “Die
Hölty-Vertonungen von Brahms,” 71.
55. The following discussion of phrase structure builds on an analysis in Rohr, “Brahms’s Metrical
Dramas,” 69–74.
Table 6.1: Text Setting in “Der Kuss”

Poetic Lines with Scansion Text in the Musical Phrases with Accent Marks for Musical
Downbeat Placement
Únter BlǗten des Mái's spíelt ich mit Unter BlǗten des Mái's spielt ích mit íhrer Hánd,
íhrer Hánd,
Kós'te líebend mit íhr, scháute mein kóste líebend, kóste líebend mit íhr,
schwébendes
Bíld im Áuge des Mä́dchens, scháute mein schwébendes Bíld im Áuge des Mä́dchens,
Ráubt ihr bébend den érsten Kúß. Ráubt ihr bébend den érsten Kúß.*
* “Raubt” is placed on the second eighth, after a downbeat rest, but the piano articulates its melodic tone on the
downbeat.
either from the first line or from the enjambed second to third lines, but the repe-
tition of “koste liebend” also works well, as a performative realization of the loving
caresses.56 Here we may be reminded of how Schumann uses word repetition to
even out musical phrases in “Waldesgespräch” (see chap. 4), but in Brahms’s song
we are dealing with five-bar, not four-bar phrases. The fourth phrase is the only
one that ends up with four stressed syllables.
There are two more changes to note in the transformation of poetic rhythm to
musical rhythm: (1) In the first phrase, Brahms situates the poetically accented
“spielt” as an upbeat rather than a downbeat. He thereby avoids the adjacent
stressed syllables of the asclepiadic line and smoothes over the implicit caesura. In
contrast with this, where there is punctuation at the caesura he makes sure to sep-
arate the line segments, as in the separation between “koste liebend mit ihr,” and
“schaute mein schwebendes.” (2) There are no end rhymes in the asclepiadic ode,
but there are internal rhymes, and Brahms’s setting brings out an especially
interesting one. The third and fourth phrases begin “schaute mein schwebendes”
and “raubt ihr bebend den,” respectively. This phonetic parallelism is hidden in
the poetic form but is evident in the syntax and in Brahms’s setting. The
“schwebendes” / “bebend den” pair also links with the earlier “liebend,” and
meaning resonates through and between all three words. The trembling (bebend)
and floating (schwebendes) feelings are those of the loving (liebend) self.
The five-bar phrases of the first strophe have a subtle inherent tension since
they may be heard as 2+3 or 3+2. The F4 on “ich” (m. 5) is a turning point that sug-
gests a 2+3 division, but the Bb-C-D of “ihrer” (m. 6) repeats the pitches of “Blüten
des” (m. 3) and this suggests a 3+2 division.57 The tension between these two
interpretations creates a kind of elastic stretch. It is like the effect of the reverse
hemiolas in “Die Mainacht,” although here we do not get a sense of the trimeter
line segments. The second phrase transposes the melody of the first up a third and
56. Kalbeck attributes Brahms’s upbeat beginning to inexperience and a misunderstanding of the ode
form, but Mahlert observes that Brahms would most likely have understood the form because its
metric scheme is given in the Voss edition that he most likely used. See Mahlert, “Die Hölty-
Vertonungen von Brahms,” 71.
57. A similar tension can be heard in the five-bar phrases of the so-called St. Anthony Chorale, which
forms the basis Brahms’s Variations on a Theme by Joseph Haydn, Op. 56a and 56b.
the same tension is evident, though the repetition of “koste liebend” strengthens
the 2+3 division. The third phrase then seems initially to be a four-bar phrase with
an imperfect authentic cadence at m. 16, but it is extended at the last moment with
the V7/V in m. 17—good thing, too, since the singer was not finished with his or
her text. In other words, whereas the musical phrase divides as 4+1, the text phrase
divides as 3+2: “scháute mein schwébendes Bíld / im Áuge des Mä́dchens.” Finally,
the fourth phrase is an easy four bars. The piano echo does not unsettle the feeling
of even periodicity, since it is an echo of the third and fourth bars. The echo itself
is disrupted as “Zuckend fliegt nun . . .” breaks forth, forte and in C minor.
Before turning to the second strophe, let us consider example 6.8, a metric
graph for the first strophe. The dotted-quarter measure divides into three eighths
and groups into either two- or three-measure spans. This is not a hemiola; the two-
and three-measure groupings do not conflict within six-measure spans (I have
therefore not sketched in the six-bar pulse), rather they are successive groupings
in five-measure spans with 2+3 vs. 3+2 indeterminacy. The two-bar span does
group duply into a four-bar span with a first attempt in mm. 13–16 and a success-
ful four-bar phrase in mm. 18–21; this is shown on the sketch with the continuing
path up and to the right.
Example 6.8: Metric Graph for “Der Kuß,” mm. 3–21
4xq.
3xq. 2xq.
q.
Three-bar groupings then break out at the beginning of the second strophe
together with the forte dynamic and new key areas. This clearly derives from the
poetic syntax at the beginning of the second stanza, with trimeter line segments
separated by commas. There is also a two-bar periodicity working against the
three-bar phrase segments in mm. 23–28, a hypermetric hemiola.58 Annotations
in the score indicate metric layers. Measures 23, 25, and 27 each feature a stepwise
descending line in the piano, and they are all tonic harmonies within the local key
areas (C minor and G minor). Measures 24, 26, and 28 are all dominant harmonies,
and mm. 24 and 26 feature ascending stepwise lines. We can represent the harmonic
situation of mm. 23–28 as <(c)T D T / (g)D T D>, and this continues on to the next
three-measure span where we get <(d)T D T>. As in “Die Mainacht,” the hemiola
58. See Rohr, “Brahms’s Metrical Dramas,” 74.

is also embedded in the vocal line, with rhythms derived from the poetic meter.
Example 6.9 shows the <a b c / b a c / a b c> structure (compare with ex. 6.5). The
recurrence of “a” (trochee = quarter-eighth descending third) and “b” (dactyl =
ascending line in eighths) contributes to the two-bar layer; “c” (single syllable =
single quarter) events mark the end of the three-bar segments. In “Die Mainacht,”
the contour formed a chiastic structure and rhythms formed a hemiola; here the
contour combines with rhythm to form the hemiola.
Example 6.9: “Der Kuß,” mm. 23–31 (vocal line)
a b c b a c
3
23

8
Zu - ckend fliegt nun der Kuß, wie ein ver - sen - gend Feur,
a b c
29

mir durch Mark und Ge - bein.
We may also note that the triple relations extend further in “Der Kuß,” at this
moment of greater emotive intensity. There are three three-measure segments:
23–25, 26–28, and 29–31. The piano extends the last of these to four measures,
however, with a transitional bar (m. 32). Thus, while mm. 29–31 complete the nine-
measure span (= 3 x 3 measures), m. 32 completes a four-measure span (= 2 x 2
measures) and prepares the return. Example 6.10 sketches the metric situation. The
diamond in the middle shows the hemiola (mm. 23–28), the line extending up
and to the left shows the 3 x 3 bar grouping (mm. 23–31), and the line extending
up and to the right shows the 2 x 2 bar grouping (mm. 29–32).59
Example 6.10: Metric Graph for “Der Kuß,” mm. 23–32
9xq. 6xq. 4xq.
3xq. 2xq.
q.
59. I construct these metric graphs largely in the “up” (grouping) direction and do not assume a single
span at the top. Cohn’s method assumes a single span and works down from there (descending on
the “ski-hill”). See the discussion in chap. 2 and Cohn, “Complex Hemiolas.”
Since mm. 33–42 reproduce phrases from the first strophe, we get the same
rhythm: a four-bar phrase extended at the last moment to five (33–37) and a four-bar
phrase with an added measure in the piano (38–41 and then 42). There is a subtle
change in this latter phrase: an added Eb in mm. 40–42 turns the F triad into an F7
(compare with mm. 20–22) and sustains tension through to the repetition of
“Kühlung zu.” The piano also does not echo the voice in m. 42, as it had in m. 22.
Measure 42 nonetheless feels like an extra pause between four bar phrases, not a fifth
bar in the phrase. The repetition of “Kühlung zu!” can be heard to mark out two-bar
segments, and the right-hand chords in the final measures gently reinforce this two-
bar layer even as they anticipate the bar lines. The four-bar layer dissipates, however,
as we get simple oscillations in the bass and repeated chords in the right hand.
Thus, just as the asclepiadic ode form settles into tetrameter lines at the end of
each stanza, Brahms’s song settles into four-bar phrases at the end of each strophe.
In the first strophe this is cross-reading; the easing of rhythmic tension contrasts
with the intensity of the line “raubt ihr bebend den ersten Kuß” (trembling, [I]
stole the first kiss from her). One imagines the vocal persona retreating from the
memory even as he speaks the words—but then the intensity of it hits him:
“Zuckend fliegt nun der Kuß wie ein versengend Feur . . .” (Flaring, the kiss now
races like a searing fire . . . ). In other words, what might seem to be a misreading, a
misplaced easing of tension, can be heard as a psychic retreat that prepares the
sudden moment of heat. At the end of the second strophe, the four-bar periodic-
ities correspond with a cooling moment, imagined and longed for: “wehe, wehe
mir Kühling zu” (wave, wave coolness upon me).
“Der Kuß” also departs from the ode form to create its own metric drama. The
five-bar phrases create a metric context for successive two- and three-bar group-
ings, with 2+3 versus 3+2 indeterminacy. The conflict then erupts in a direct
hemiola, at the beginning of the second strophe, with a two-bar periodicity working
against the 3 x 3 bar segments. Two bar groupings in turn predominate as the
tension eases at the end of each strophe. It is also evident, however, that each part
of this metric drama derives from some aspect of the poem. The five-bar phrases
emerge from syntactic characteristics of the first strophe. The four-bar phrases at
the end of the strophes set tetrameter lines. The three successive three-bar phrases
also correspond with the poetic syntax (trimeter line segments separated by
commas in the second stanza), and the direct hemiola emerges logically from the
asclepiadic line structure, as in “Die Mainacht.”
Walking, Reciting, and Composing
How might Brahms have worked all this out? Questions about compositional pro-
cess or intent are not always productive, but here we have intriguing evidence that
can inform our own approach as performers and listeners. We have discussed the
importance of pauses, punctuation, and poetic structure for Brahms, as reported
by Gustav Jenner. There is another aspect to the compositional process, though,
that we have not discussed. Brahms seems to have worked out many things while
walking, sometimes consciously and sometimes unconsciously. The baritone
George Henschel, who became a close friend in the 1870s, reports the following
statement from Brahms:
There is no real creating without hard work. That which you would call invention,
that is to say, a thought, an idea, is simply an inspiration from above, for which I am
not responsible, which is no merit of mine. Yea, it is a present, a gift, which I ought
even to despise until I have made it my own by right of hard work. And there need
be no hurry about that, either. It is as with the seed-corn; it germinates uncon-
sciously and in spite of ourselves. When I, for instance, have found the first phrase
of a song, say [singing] “Wann der silberne Mond,” I might shut the book there and
then go for a walk, do some other work, and perhaps not think of it again for
months. Nothing, however, is lost. If afterward I approach the subject again, it is
sure to have taken shape; I can now begin to really work at it.60
This is one of the most frequently quoted statements from Brahms about compo-
sitional process. It is rich with personal and historical significance, touching on the
relation between inspiration and conscious process, organicism (the “seed-corn”
which “germinates unconsciously”), and musical memory.61 It is of further signifi-
cance here because the tune that Brahms quotes is the beginning of “Die Mainacht.”
The activity of walking (“I might shut the book there and go for a walk”), however,
is rarely noted.62 Walking is an embodied activity that includes binary repetition
and movement. Compositional thought occurs as Brahms walks; the songs are in
motion. Without belaboring or overemphasizing the point, we may distinguish
again between Schubert and Brahms: whereas in Schubert it is the poetic persona
and nature that move and are moved, in Brahms it is the composing-performing
self. The rhythmic motion in Brahms is performative.
There are further statements and recollections to reinforce the link between
walking and composing, some with reference to song composition and the met-
rical interpretation of poetry. We recall that Jenner was advised, “I should carry the
poem around with me in my head for a long time and should frequently recite out
loud to myself.”63 Where is Jenner to carry the poem and recite it? Brahms also
advises, “When ideas come to you, go for a walk.”64 Finally, Kalbeck recounts
Brahms himself reciting the poem “Herrn von Falkenstein” from Des Knaben
Wunderhorn out loud as he walked through the woods (this became “Das Lied
vom Herrn von Falkenstein,” Op. 43 No. 4).65
60. Henschel, Personal Recollections of Johannes Brahms, 22–23.

61. See Frisch, Brahms and the Principle of Developing Variation, 33; Jacobsen, Das Verhältnis von
Sprache und Musik, 62–63; and Swafford, Johannes Brahms, 419.
62. Jacobsen is the exception; before quoting Henschel she observes, “Again we take up the catchwords
‘walking’ [spazierengehen] and ‘letting be’ [liegen-lassen].” See Jacobsen, Das Verhältnis von Sprache
und Musik, 62.
65. Kalbeck, Johannes Brahms, 1:313. Kalbeck also recounts how the young Brahms and Reményi
walked through Germany on their first concert tour, avoiding the trains, and how Brahms made his
way on foot down the Rhine valley on his way to Düsseldorf to meet the Schumanns. See Finscher,
“Brahms’s Early Songs,” 338.
If one carries a poem such as “Die Mainacht” or “Der Kuß” around, reciting it out
loud from memory, walking with its rhythms, one may well get a strong sense for all
the periodicities that pervade it, those of the trochaic, dactylic, and single-syllable
feet, those of their combination in asclepiadic lines, and those of its caesuras and
enjambments. If one is twenty-five years old and in love, as Brahms was in 1858 when
he wrote “Der Kuß,” the rhythms of walking and song would mix with those of sen-
sual memory and desire.66 Rhythm, meter, and motion are imbued with meaning.
“Wenn du nur zuweilen lächelst,” Op. 57 No. 2:

Metric Fluidity and Desire
Brahms’s Lieder und Gesänge to texts by G. F. Daumer, Op. 57, published in 1871,
join the Romanzen from Tieck’s “Magelone,” Op. 33, as the only collections dedi-
cated to individual poets. Brahms published Daumer settings in other collections
as well, however, including Op. 32 (1865), Opp. 46 and 47 (1868), Op. 59 (1873),
Op. 95 (1884), and Op. 96 (1886). There are nineteen settings in all, more than by
any other poet if one discounts Brahms’s supposed youthful setting of “the complete
Eichendorff and Heine.”67 The majority of these were written in 1864–73, a period
following the “first maturity” when Brahms focused largely on vocal works.68 (“Die
Mainacht” is also from this period.) The Daumer settings are less tied to the folk-
song ideal, with fewer strophic forms, more variable declamatory rhythm, and
greater use of developing variation. G. F. Daumer (1800–75) was a teacher and
homeopathic doctor, as well as a gifted translator. Many of the poems that Brahms
set are translations; “Wenn du nur zuweilen lächelst” is a translation of a poem by
Hafiz which appeared in Daumer’s 1852 anthology Hafis: eine Sammlung persis-
cher Gedichte (Hafis: A Collection of Persian Poems). They feature explicit sensu-
ality, which some of Brahms’s friends found distasteful, and which is a portent of
things to come at the fin-de-siècle.
“Wenn du nur zuweilen lächelst” is a single-stanza poem in six lines of trochaic
tetrameter. The rhyme scheme is aab ccb, with unaccented endings for lines 1–2
and 4–5 and accented endings for lines 3 and 6. Lines 3 and 6 thus complete the
two halves of the poem with abrupt endings, and they themselves link up through
structural parallelism and rhyme. The poem consists of a single extended sentence
with conditional clauses in lines 1–3 and resultant clauses in lines 4–6. The mood
is one of intense yearning, patience mixed with impatience, and submission. As in
“Der Kuß,” there is the overwhelming heat (Glut, glow or ardor) of passion and a
wish for cooling from the beloved.
66. Brahms was in love with Agathe von Siebold, the daughter of a university professor in Göttingen.
They would secretly exchange rings the following year, but Brahms then broke it off.
67. Kalbeck, Johannes Brahms, 1:133. The Daumer settings are listed in Stark, A Guide to the Solo Songs
of Johannes Brahms, 356–57.
68. See Frisch, Brahms and the Principle of Developing Variation, chap. 4. Vocal works from this period
in genres other than the Lied include the German Requiem, Op. 45, Rinaldo, Op. 50, and the Alto
Rhapsody, Op. 53.
Wenn du nur zuweilen lächelst, If you only occasionally smile

Nur zuweilen Kühle fächelst Only occasionally fan coolness
Dieser ungemeß’nen Glut— On this immeasurable ardor—
In Geduld will ich mich fassen In patience I will hold myself
Und dich alles treiben lassen, And allow you to do all
Was der Liebe wehe tut.69 That injures love.70
The expression “nur zuweilen” (only occasionally) occurs in the first line,
poetic feet 2–3, and the second line, poetic feet 1–2. Its rapid recurrence, earlier in
the second line than in the first, creates a reverse performative symbol, enacting
the opposite of what is described, but of course what it enacts is the poet’s impa-
tience—not what is but what could be. This is the poet’s “voice” speaking not
through the meaning of the words but through the rhythm and syntax of his or her
speech. Even within these lines, there is a tension between the anticipation, in the
early recurrence of “nur zuweilen,” and regular pulse in the rhyming line ends. The
internal structure of these two lines can be diagramed as <xabc / abxc>, where a, b,
and c are recurrent elements and x is a placeholder for nonrecurrent elements. It is
precisely the combined effects of anticipation, intensification, desire, and holding
back that Brahms explores in his setting. We may also notice that lines 1 and 2
share a grammatical subject: “Wenn du nur zuweilen lächelst / (Wenn du) nur
zuweilen Kühle fächelst” (If you only occasionally smile / (If you) only occasion-
ally fan coolness). Line 2 then links up to line 3 in an enjambment, maintaining the
sense of motion. Whereas “lächelst” (smile) does not lead on to an indirect object,
“fächelst” (fan) leads on to “dieser ungemessenen Glut.” In this regard, the rhythmic
profile is like that of Goethe’s “Wandrers Nachtlied II,” where “Über allen Gipfeln /
ist Ruh” is self-sufficient and “In allen Wipfeln / spürest du” leads on to “kaum
einen Hauch.”71 The rhyme parallelism highlights the difference in syntactic
function and rhythmic flow.
Example 6.11 (web) provides a score for Brahms’s song. The notated
meter is 9/8, thus with triple relations between the eighth, dotted-quarter, and
three-dotted-quarter (= measure) periodicities. The song itself struggles with this
9/8 meter, pushing against it impatiently with duple relations and then holding
back. The duple relations emerge partly in response to the poem’s tetrameter lines,
but they also surge up from a basic duple grouping of the eighth note.
Piano figuration in mm. 1–2 conveys the dotted-quarter beat clearly, and
Brahms sets the first line with accented syllables on beats [1, 2 - / 1, 2 -]. The unac-
cented ending of “fächelst” stretches out to land on the third beat; this is much the
same as in Schubert’s [1, 2 - / 1, 2 -] setting of trochaic tetrameter in “Wasserflut”
from Winterreise (see ex. 1.8). The rest between “wenn du nur” and “zuweilen
lächelst” is distinctive, however, as is the way the piano fills this rest—with a <q e>
ascending figure which then descends by step to the downbeat of m. 2. Brackets in

71. See Yonatan Malin, “Metric Displacement Dissonance and Romantic Longing in the German Lied,”
the score labeled “x” show that this is the second of two similar gestures, and we
may notice how it expands and intensifies the first (an ascending third becomes an
octave leap). The two gestures together also hint at a hemiola, a two dotted-quarter
layer working against the 9/8 meter. Neither pianist nor singer completes the
hemiola cycle, however; in m. 2 they both settle into the 9/8 meter.
The piano then enters on its own in m. 3, compressing the beginning of the “x”
rhythm from <q e> to <qr> and interlocking the motives to form a quasi-sequence.
We get two interlocking motives with ascending thirds, <G-Bb-Ab> and
<Ab-C-Bb>, and then one that reaches up a sixth to G5, a new high point. The
interlocking motives form a new hemiola, a quarter layer that conflicts with the
dotted eighth. This hemiola completes its cycle in two dotted quarters (= three
quarters); the cycle as a whole thus also works against the three-dotted-quarter
layer of the 9/8 bars and initiates a broader hemiola cycle. The duple grouping of
eighths does not continue, but there is some reinforcement for the broader hemiola,
more so than in mm. 1–2. One may hear vocal accentuation on “nur zuwéilen
Kühle fä́chelst,” emphasizing beat 3 (m. 3) and then beat 2 (m. 4). Of course the
word “fächelst” is sung in the same rhythm and metric position as “lächelst”—this
parallelism contributes to the notated meter—but since “zuweilen” on the down-
beat of m. 2 is more strongly accented than “Kühle” on the downbeat of m. 4, one
may hear “zuwéilen lächelst” in m. 2 and “Kühle fä́chelst” in m. 4. The shift from
<Bb-Ab> on “lächelst” to <Bb-A$> on “fächelst” helps mark this change, and the
rising tendency of the A$ leads us onward, with the poetic enjambment.
The sketches in examples 6.12 and 6.13 illustrate the metric situation. Example
6.12 shows the triple relations of the notated meter, extending up and to the left.
Example 6.13 adds the duple relations. The duple grouping of the eighth, up and to
the right, forms a quarter-note layer and a hemiola cycle with a two-dotted-quarter
(= three quarters) span. The two-dotted-quarter span in turn forms its own hemiola
cycle with a six-dotted-quarter span (= two measures). Thus, as suggested above,
the duple relations “surge up” from a basic grouping of the eighth.
Example 6.12: 9/8 Meter in “Wenn du nur zueweilen lächelst”
3xq.
q.
The notion of an upward surge, however, derives not only from events in the
rhythmic domain but also from pitch events: the duple grouping of eighths ini-
tiates a “surge” up to G5. The quarter layer (= two eighths) does not continue after
the first two beats of m. 3, and the vocal line likewise descends after its G5 high
Example 6.13: 9/8 Meter with Double Hemiola (“Wenn du nur zueweilen lächelst,”
mm. 1–4)
6xq.
3xq. 2xq.
q. q
point. In other words, Brahms associates duple relations, intruding impatiently

upon the pure triple meter, with vocal ascent and intensification. In comparison,
two- and four-bar phrase units were associated with an easing of tension in “Der
Kuß,” and triple relations broke out at the moment of passion. The associations of
duple and triple relations vary from song to song, but the fact of an association
illustrates an important feature of Brahms’s style and approach to text setting.72
The slight intensification of the two-dotted-quarter layer in mm. 3–4 prepares
us for something much more radical in mm. 5–7. Before we turn there, though, it
is worth considering mm. 1–4 again with closer attention to the text. Brahms’s
setting responds to the grammatical elision, anticipation, and intensification
described above, all in one. One may hear the unsung repetition of “Wenn du” in
the piano’s first “x” gesture of m. 3; this is where the singer might have come in, and
we get a return of the “Wenn du nur” pitches from m. 1. To imagine the unsung text
with the piano melody, place “Wenn” as a melisma on <G-Bb>, “du” on the Ab, and
then continue with the <C-Bb> melisma of “nur.” The word “zuweilen” arrives a
beat early (anticipation) and up a step (intensification), in comparison with its
placement in mm. 1–2.
Measures 5–7 project the notated 9/8 meter and extend triple relations up yet
one more level to a three-measure span; at the same time, they introduce a
conflicting four-dotted-quarter layer, as in a 12/8 meter. The 9/8 meter is projected
by parallelisms in the vocal line and piano. The vocal line is the same in beats 2–3
of mm. 5 and 6, as is the piano. Beats 2–3 of m. 7 have root-position V-I motion,
analogous to the inverted V-I motion of mm. 5 and 6. This is a particular kind of
parallelism, one that occurs in the latter part of each metric span. (In this regard, it
is like the parallelism of “lächelst” and “fächelst.”) Meanwhile, Brahms sets the
words of the repeated tetrameter line as though in a 12/8 meter.73 I have marked
72. Walter Frisch provides a compelling analysis of shifting meter and its expressive functions in “O
Tod, wie bitter bist du” from the Four Serious Songs, Op. 121. See Brahms and the Principle of
Developing Variation, 153–54.
73. See Rohr, “Brahms’s Metrical Dramas,” 252.
the hypothetical 12/8 measures with dotted bar lines in mm. 6 and 7. The words
“(un)gemessnen Glut” are stretched in the notated m. 7 to arrive on a 12/8 down-
beat. In the context of the notated 9/8, the declamatory schema is [1, 2, 3 / 1][2, 3 /
1 - 3]. The result is combined repetition and anticipation, as in lines 1–2 of the
poem. The melodic figure <Eb-D, G-D-Bb> sets “ungemessnen” the first time
(poetic feet 2–3) and “dieser unge-” the second time (poetic feet 1–2). In this
regard, it is like “nur zuweilen,” which shifts from poetic feet 2–3 (line 1) to poetic
feet 1–2 (line 2). Example 6.14 shows the triple and duple relations breaking away
from each other on a metric graph, triple relations up and to the left and duple up
and to the right. The two are deeply incommensurable, like the poet’s immeasur-
able ardor, which is cooled by a smile all too infrequently.
Example 6.14: Triple and Duple Relations (“Wenn du nur zueweilen lächelst,”
mm. 5–7)
9xq. 4xq.
3xq. 2xq.
q.
The following passage, in mm. 8–14, clinches the association between triple
relations and a holding back of passion. The piano projects the 9/8 meter clearly
and the poet sings “in Geduld, in Geduld will ich mich fassen” (In patience, in
patience I will hold myself). Brahms adds the repetition of “in Geduld,” the singer
thereby enacts the process of patient waiting, and the phrase spreads out to three
measures. In other words, it is not simply that the text “In Geduld will ich mich
fassen” happens to coincide with a three-bar phrase; rather, the musical performance
of that text includes patient repetition, and this generates the three-bar setting. The
vocal phrase is also offset, delayed relative to the piano phrase. The piano phrase
begins from the downbeat of m. 8, the singer begins from the upbeat to m. 9, and
the vocal phrase then overlaps with the beginning of the following piano phrase in
m. 11. The singer’s declamatory schema is now upbeat-oriented, [3 / 1 - (3 / 1 -) 3 /
1 -], responding to the piano’s downbeat-oriented gestures. The piano itself takes
on a kind of holding pattern in mm. 8–9 and 11–12, with non-resolving repetition
and a <q. h.> harmonic rhythm.74 The piano’s melodic gestures are recollections of
74. Rohr observes that many of the measures in the song “have the sense of an added beat, a duple
gesture that has been ‘stretched.’ ” See Rohr, “Brahms’s Metrical Dramas,” 251.
the “x” motive, associated with “Wenn du nur,” and one may hear the words “If you
only . . .” as a subtext in counterpoint with “In patience I will hold myself.” Measures
11–13 expand with m. 14 to a four-bar phrase (compare with mm. 8–10) just as
the singer reaches up to his or her climax. The Gb5 of “Liebe” in m. 15 is one half
step below the G5 of “dieser ungemessnen Glut” and “dieser ungemessnen Glut” in
mm. 5 and 6, but it is a much more emphatic arrival.
Declamation expands dramatically in the aftermath of the climax to one poetic
foot / bar, and the associations of triple and duple relations are not as clear. The
song at this point is no longer as much about impatient desire and holding back as
it is about love (Liebe) and pain caused (wehe tut). The piano postlude, however,
does return to elements from the first few measures, including the duple grouping
of eighths. The comparison is intriguing: whereas in mm. 3–4, the duple grouping
of eighths leads up to G5 and initiates duple groupings at higher levels, in mm. 22–23
it leads only up to Eb5 and the hemiola cycle stalls. We get repeated syncopations
over the bar line (with melodic suspensions) instead of a full hemiola cycle. The
poet will hold himself in patience, will allow for anything, and the purely triple 9/8
meter holds sway.
Brahms traces the dynamics of desire from moment to moment in “Wenn du
nur zuweilen lächelst,” and in this regard his approach is similar to that taken up
later by Wolf and Schoenberg. Lied historiography typically situates Brahms and
Wolf in opposition to each other. Brahms wrote songs in traditional forms and
conceived his melodies and harmonies as absolute music—so the story goes.
Brahms was inspired by Schubert and folksongs; one learns that he was not partic-
ularly concerned about the quality of the poems he set, and that he would sacrifice
declamation for the sake of melodic line or motive. One learns further that Wolf
was a Wagnerian and representative of the New German School, and that he was a
master of declamation. He raised the status of the poem, and the blend of music
and text was thereby strengthened. There is truth to this picture, which has been in
circulation since the first critical responses to Brahms and Wolf in the late
nineteenth century.75 It has also become clear, as we reassess the songs themselves
and the evidence from contemporaries, that Brahms paid close attention to the
poems and indeed that his songs are more than absolute music. The evidence of
“Wenn du nur zuweilen lächelst” shows us something different, however: it shows
that there are affinities across the divide of later-nineteenth-century polemics—
a common metric fluidity linked with the vicissitudes of desire.76
75. See Platt, “Jenner versus Wolf.”

76. In a similar vain, Ira Braus shows that Brahms’s “Liebe und Frühling II,” Op. 3 No. 3, may be linked
with the aesthetics of Wagner’s Opera and Drama, which Brahms read, and that Wagner in turn
could have been influenced by the song. See Braus, “Brahms’s ‘Liebe und Frühling.’ ”
CHAPTER Seven
Wolf: Syncopation and the Rhythms of Speech
In the introduction to a collected volume of writings on Wolf, published in 1898,

the drama critic and playwright Hermann Bahr describes a poetic recitation by
Hugo Wolf:
Never in my life have I heard such reading. It is impossible to describe it. I can only
say this: when he spoke the words, they assumed a prodigious truth, they became
corporeal things: we had the feeling as if his own body had suddenly become an
incarnation of the words, as if these hands, that we saw glimmering in the dim light,
no longer belonged to a man, but to the words that we heard. He had, as it were,
transubstantiated himself with all his body into the words of the poet.1
For the Wolf enthusiast, this description poetically confirms the self-evident, that
words are of great import for Wolf and that he had an uncanny ability to perform
poetic texts, to make them real in the moment. Echoing Bahr, one might say that
words become “corporeal things” in the body of the song and singer. With the prior
history of the Lied in mind, Wolf ’s songs are revelations.
How and when was Wolf reciting poetry so vividly? Bahr describes late-night—
or rather early-morning—recitations by a pale and reclusive housemate, appar-
ently a fool, as of yet unknown to the wider world. Later on, as he became known
and celebrated, Wolf would read poems to his audience before performing the
songs.2 The experience of poetry and music is different. One takes in the poem,
with its spoken rhythms, inflections, and meanings; the song is experienced as a
1. Hermann Bahr, “Introduction: Hugo Wolf,” in Gesammelte Aufsätze über Hugo Wolf (Berlin:
S. Fischer, 1898), x–xi, as translated in Edward F. Kravitt, The Lied: Mirror of Late Romanticism
(New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1996), 62.
2. See the firsthand account in Paul Müller, “Ein neuer Liederkomponist,” in Gesammelte Aufsätze über
Hugo Wolf (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1898 [1894]), 55–56, and see Amanda Glauert, Hugo Wolf and the
Wagnerian Inheritance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 51. The reading of poems
before performances of their musical settings became a common practice in Viennese Hausmusik
concerts of the early twentieth century; see Kravitt, The Lied, 20–21.
177
further layering, with all that music can convey in rhythm and tone. As Amanda
Glauert observes, the proximity of poetic reading and song performance “allowed
one to appreciate how cleverly Wolf aligned his vocal declamation to the fluctu-
ating intonations of speech. But it also brought home how these fluctuations were
now caught and made part of a separate coherent musical realization.”3
We may recall how Brahms insisted that Clara Schumann read the poems of
Die Schöne Müllerin before hearing the songs. The focus on poetic reading, apart
from the musical setting, links Wolf and Brahms across the divide of the later
nineteenth century. Wolf, like Brahms, was anxious about what happened to poems
when they were set to music.4 Wolf, like Brahms, was working in a “late period.” The
new composer of song had to compete with Schubert and Schumann in the increas-
ingly frequent Liederabende (song evenings), just as the later nineteenth-century
symphonic composer had to compete with Beethoven. Wolf was painfully aware of
those who came before him; this of course includes Wagner—Wagnerian harmony
and rhythm infuse Wolf ’s songs from the Mörike settings on—but also Schubert
and especially Schumann.5 Wolf was also working in a late period in that he mostly
chose texts by earlier poets: Mörike, Goethe, and Eichendorff.6 The poems of the
Spanish and Italian Songbooks are German translations by Emanuel Geibel and Paul
Heyse, published in 1852 and 1860. The poems already had a history, and reading
them had become a paradigmatic act, apart from musical settings.
The act of poetic reading, however, also separates Wolf from Brahms. Whereas
we have an image of Brahms reading poems aloud as he walked, feeling their
rhythms in relation to his gait, our image of Wolf ’s reading is one of dramatic rec-
itation, with the rhythms of emotionally heightened speech. The contrast is indic-
ative, even if it cannot be taken as an absolute. (Brahms, for instance, also suggested
that dramatic recitation be taken as a model for song composition, and Wolf ’s “Auf
einer Wanderung” (On a Walk) from the Mörike songs is imbued with walking
rhythms.)7 Broadly speaking, we may say that rhythm for Wolf is about performa-
tive speech, whereas for Brahms it is about embodied motion.
Early accounts of Wolf ’s achievement focus on the flexible Wagnerian-style
declamation, the symphonically conceived piano parts, and especially the union of
poetry and music.8 In his classic biography from 1907, the English critic Ernest
Newman wrote, “The secret of Wolf ’s peculiar power is that he pierced to the very
heart of the poem as few musicians have done even in isolated cases, and as no
3. Glauert, Hugo Wolf and the Wagnerian Inheritance, 51.

4. Hugo Wolf, Briefe an Rosa Mayreder, ed. Heinrich Werner (Vienna: 1921), 82, cited in Glauert, Hugo
Wolf and the Wagnerian Inheritance, 51.
5. Glauert, Hugo Wolf and the Wagnerian Inheritance; Susan Youens, Hugo Wolf: The Vocal Music
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1992), chap. 1.
6. Eric Sams and Susan Youens, “Wolf, Hugo,” in Grove Music Online; Oxford Music Online, http://www.
oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/52073 (accessed November 30, 2008).
7. Regarding Brahms and dramatic recitation, see Gustav Jenner, “Johannes Brahms as Man, Teacher,
and Artist,” trans. Susan Gillespie, in Brahms and His World, ed. Walter Frisch (Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 1990), 197. The relevant quote is reproduced here, in chap. 6.
8. Regarding the symphonic piano parts and Wagnerian declamation, see Joseph Schalk, “Hugo Wolf,”
in Gesammelte Aufsätze über Hugo Wolf (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1898 [1890]), 21–22. Kravitt summarizes
contemporary views; see The Lied, 3–6.
CHAPTER 7 Wolf: Syncopation and the Rhythms of Speech 179
other has done in so many cases.”9 Rudolf Louis observed in his history of German
music, published in 1909, that Wolf himself changed with each poet that he set,
and that while there are moments of weakness in some songs, in the best there is “a
complete harmony between poet and musician, a highly intensified approach to
the ideal of absolute union of word and tone, as has been achieved in the domain
of drama only by Richard Wagner.”10
More recently, Susan Youens acknowledges the intensity of Wolf ’s engagement
with poetic texts but also takes note of the distance between Wolf and his poet
(Mörike, in this case):
Wolf ’s spate of fifty-three Mörike songs composed in 1888 constitutes one of the
most famous episodes in the history of the lied, and it began the process by which
Wolf became known as “the Poet’s Composer,” someone who cared more about
poetry, served it more faithfully, delved into it more deeply than other lieder com-
posers. Wolf ’s famous act of citing the poet first on his title pages (Gedichte von
Eduard Mörike . . . componirt von Hugo Wolf ) supposedly sets the seal on poetry’s
primacy in these songs, but it is the verb “componirt,” “composed,” which matters
more: these songs consist of something done to the Gedichte von Eduard Mörike. . . .
This is not to deny his reverence for his favorite poets, the depth of his poetic
understanding, or his capacity to find uncannily exact musical analogues for textual
nuances, but he came from a different world than the older poets he preferred to his
own generation.11
Thus, the “uncannily exact musical analogues for textual nuances” that we find in
Wolf’s songs should not blind us to the fact that Wolf’s settings are still interpreta-
tions, readings that bring out certain features of the poetry and suppress others.12
The question for us is how vocal rhythms, interacting with those of the piano, give
the impression of consummate declamation even as they go beyond (and at times
against) the literal rhythms of speech. We shall also seek to find the rhythmic bases
for Wolf’s uncannily precise “musical analogues”—how rhythm and meter con-
tribute to the convergence of poetic and musical meaning in Wolf’s interpretations.
In a nutshell, the rhythmic flexibility of Wolf ’s vocal lines and his frequent use
of syncopation convey a sense of “speech” rhythm, which, however, typically relies
on a background of rhythmic regularity in the piano.13 This is speech coming to
9. Ernest Newman, Hugo Wolf (New York: Dover Publications, 1966 [1907]), 156.
10. Rudolf Louis, Die deutsche Musik der Gegenwart, 2nd ed. (Munich: G. Müller, 1909), 216. Further
views along this line can be found in Hugo Wolf-Verein in Vienna, ed., Gesammelte Aufsätze über
Hugo Wolf (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1898). Han-Herwig Geyer provides selected quotes from this volume;
see his Hugo Wolfs Mörike-Vertonungen: Vermannigfaltigung in lyrischer Konzentration (Kassel:
Bärenreiter, 1991), 25–26.
11. Susan Youens, Hugo Wolf and His Mörike Songs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), x.
12. Further accounts that complicate the notion of Wolf as the “poet’s composer” include Geyer, Hugo
Wolfs Mörike-Vertonungen; Glauert, Hugo Wolf and the Wagnerian Inheritance; and Lawrence
Kramer, “Hugo Wolf: Subjectivity in the Fin-de-Siècle Lied,” in German Lieder in the Nineteenth
Century, ed. Rufus Hallmark (New York: Schirmer Books, 1996): 186–217.
13. The piano parts frequently include metric dissonances with expressive functions; see Harald Krebs,
“Text-Expressive Functions of Metrical Dissonance in the Songs of Hugo Wolf,” Musicologia
Austriaca 26 (2007): 125–36.
the fore in Nägeli’s “polyrhythm” of speech, singing, and playing. But although
Wolf ’s vocal rhythms are frequently explained as a function of declamatory
concerns—respect for the poetic meter and further accentuation of words that
carry special meaning—this is not sufficient. There is also a logic of rhythmic flow,
of tension and release, that heightens the expressive effect beyond what could be
achieved in a poetic recitation.14
I shall begin with the vocal and piano rhythms of “Ganymed,” from the Goethe
songs. The flexible syncopated vocal rhythms emerge not only as new rhythmic
phenomena in the history of the genre, but also as finely calibrated tools of vocal
expressivity and agency.15 Many songs by Wolf feature variable declamatory
schemas within regular two- or four-bar periodicities. I illustrate this with pen-
tameter settings from the Italian Songbook. Finally, the layering of poetic, vocal,
and piano rhythms is especially rich in one of Wolf ’s longer Wagnerian-style songs,
“Im Frühling” from the Mörike songs. I demonstrate how apparently free passages
in “Im Frühling” are nonetheless organized around recurrent periodicities, and
conversely how recurrent metric spans are articulated with a great deal of freedom.
All of this contributes to the beautifully crafted psychological drama of Wolf ’s
post-Wagnerian Lied.
Irregular and Syncopated Vocal Rhythms: “Ganymed” (Goethe)
Poetic Analysis
“Ganymed,” the penultimate song in the Gedichte von Goethe, presents a beautiful
example of Wolf ’s irregular and frequently syncopated declamation, hovering over
an accompaniment with regular periodicities. Wolf ’s intensive engagement with
Goethe spanned from October 1888 to February 1889; “Ganymed” was written in
January of 1889. I shall consider the first part of the poem and passages from
Wolf ’s setting. I shall then compare these with Schubert’s setting of “Ganymed”
from 1817. There are rhythmic irregularities in Schubert’s song (which is also a
powerful setting), but musical repetition and sequencing trump variations in the
poetic rhythm.
The poem is a paean to spring, nature, and all-embracing love. As is typical of
Goethe, however, springtime and nature do not form a backdrop for feelings of
love; rather, love is springtime, springtime is the beloved, and nature is the bosom
on which Ganymed lies and for which he yearns. (Ganymed was a Trojan prince,
taken up by Zeus to be the cup-bearer of the gods.16 The poem is in Ganymed’s
14. Ernest Newman also refutes the idea that rhythm in Wolf ’s songs is merely a matter of declamation;
see Newman, “Brahms and Wolf as Lyricists,” Musical Times 56, nos. 871 and 872 (1915): 524.
15. For a further discussion of syncopation and agency in Wolf ’s songs, see Yonatan Malin, “Metric
Analysis and the Metaphor of Energy: A Way into Selected Songs by Wolf and Schoenberg,” Music
Theory Spectrum 30, no. 1 (2008): 69–75.
16. Eric Sams, The Songs of Hugo Wolf, 2nd ed. (London: Eulenburg Books, 1983), 243.
voice, and in the latter part he rises up ecstatically to the embrace of an all-loving
father.) Here is the first eight-line stanza and a lone couplet that follows:
Wie im Morgenglanze As in the morning brilliance

Du rings mich anglühst, You glow, surrounding me,
Frühling, Geliebter! Spring, beloved!
Mit tausendfacher Liebeswonne With thousandfold delights of love
Sich an mein Herz drängt Upon my heart presses
Deiner ewigen Wärme Your eternal warmth
Heilig Gefühl, Holy feeling,
Unendliche Schöne! Unending beauty!
Dass ich dich fassen möcht’ O that I might grasp you
In diesen Arm!17 In these arms!
The meter is irregular, lines vary in length from two to four feet, and the poem is
unrhymed. The initial stanza consists of two statements, in lines 1–3 and 4–8,
describing a spiritual ecstasy of love/spring/beauty that comes upon the beloved (he
is surrounded by glowing spring; the warmth presses itself upon his heart). In the suc-
ceeding couplet, the poet then expresses his desire to hold all of this in his arms.
A closer look at the syntax and rhythm of lines 1–3 will prepare us for a detailed
study of Wolf ’s setting. Lines 1–3 combine in a single statement: the first is a pref-
atory clause, the second is a full syntactical statement, and the third introduces the
“du” of line 2 as Frühling (spring) and Geliebter (beloved). The verb “anglühst”
(glows) arrives at the end of line 2. Note the form that this verb takes; it is not
simply “glühst” but “anglühst,” an active, directional form of glowing. The effect is
of a glow that actively surrounds the poet, and the sense of this only becomes
apparent with the word itself, at the end of the line. We may also note how the open
“a” of “anglühst” contrasts with the surrounding vowels of “rings mich” and “glühst”
and echoes the open “a” of “Morgenglanze.” The first comma occurs at the end of
line 2; a reading of “Frühling, Geliebter” (line 3) would then expand temporally to
accommodate the importance of the words and the internal caesura.
The Piano Substrate and Flexible, Syncopated Vocal Line
A score for the beginning of Wolf ’s song is provided in example 7.1 (web) .
There is a one-bar introduction, and the piano then sustains three major-third
related harmonies for three bars each (D major, F# major, and Bb major; the three-
bar spans are marked with brackets). Listening to the song in time, we experience
the regular pulsating chords, even eighths flowing over them, and a half-note layer
gently articulated by repeating patterns. The “x” brackets show half-note patterns
that repeat in the descent; the “y” brackets show a three-beat pattern that marks the
ends of the 4/4 measures in the ascent. The melodic descent and ascent repeat in
17. Philip L. Miller, The Ring of Words: An Anthology of Song Texts (Garden City, NY: Doubleday,
1966), 62.
three-bar spans, with the harmonies, each time at a new pitch level. There are no
harmonic changes within the three-bar spans, however, and no rhythmic
differentiation other than that of the melodic patterning. Wolf indicates a “sehr
gleichmäßige und ruhige Bewegung” (very even and peaceful movement), and
each three-bar span thus projects an expansive present moment. The major-third
relations themselves, without the mediation of any tonic/dominant relations, seem
to depict something of the morning, springtime brilliance.18
These three-bar spans form the substrate for a flexible and frequently
syncopated vocal line. There is the initial setting of “Wie (im),” a syncopation over
the second beat, which resolves with “Morgen” on the third beat. “Mor-gen-glan-ze”
then sets a new series of syncopations in motion: first, “glan-(ze)” held over from
beat four into the new measure and then “(glan)-ze du rings (mich)” as a series of
quarter-note syncopations resolving finally with “anglühst” on the downbeat. This
is the singer’s first downbeat arrival, occurring on the third of the three D-major
measures.
Wolf ’s setting does not correspond with a “natural” declamation of the line; in
reading the poem, one would not prolong “glanze” or “du rings mich” to this degree.
The syncopated rhythm, however, can be understood in relation to features of
poetic rhythm and meaning. The energy of the first line moves toward “Morgen”
with “glanze” as a secondary point of emphasis. In Wolf ’s line, “Morgen” arrives on
the third beat, and “glanze” is prolonged over the downbeat, as I have noted; each
receives its own form of musical accentuation. The meaning of the second line
becomes apparent at its end, with the verb “anglühst,” and Wolf ’s syncopations lead
us to this moment. The syncopations also help create a symbolic representation:
the piano surrounds the vocal line—which maintains its independent rhythmic
profile so that it can be surrounded—just as the glow of spring and morning bril-
liance surrounds Ganymed. Thus, in a blended interpretation the piano is the glow
of a brilliant spring morning that surrounds Ganymed, and this generates the
alluring magic of Wolf ’s song.
Examples 7.2a–d provide four versions of the vocal line for comparison, pro-
gressing from a hypothetical nonsyncopated setting to Wolf ’s line. Example 7.2a
would be perfectly acceptable in a traditional vein; it is a straightforward [1, 2, 3 -]
setting. Example 7.2b approximates Wolf ’s rhythm for the first measure; we get the
initial syncopation and the second and third poetic feet on beats 3 and 4 instead of
2 and 3, but the second measure then seems awkwardly square. Example 7.2c pro-
vides a broad half-note syncopation on “rings” in the second measure, and
“anglühst” arrives on the downbeat as in Wolf ’s setting. It might seem that Wolf
would not place the unaccented syllable of “glánze” on the downbeat, as I have
done here, but in fact he does occasionally place unaccented syllables on strong
beats. Example 7.3 shows the vocal line for “ . . . dein Gras / drängen sich an mein
Herz” later in the song; the weak syllable of “drä́n-gen” arrives on the third beat.
Nonetheless, example 7.2c does not sustain the tension through to “anglühst” as
18. The end of “In der Frühe” (No. 24 from the Mörike songs) also uses ascending chromatic third-related
harmonies to depict an awakening at dawn. For more on third relations in Wolf, see Deborah J. Stein,
Hugo Wolf’s Lieder and Extensions of Tonality (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1985), chap. 3.
Wolf ’s setting does, and the word “rings” is overemphasized. Wolf ’s setting, given
again in example 7.2d, thus emerges as a logical one. This is not a “declamatory”
setting—it is, in fact, quite lyrical—but it is nonetheless responsive to minute
details of declamatory rhythm.
Example 7.2: Settings of “Ganymed,” Line 1
(a) 4
4
Wie im Mor-gen-glan - ze du rings mich an - glühst,
(b) 4
4
4
4
(c)

4
(d)
4
Example 7.3: Setting of “dein Gras . . .” from “Ganymed”
4
4
dein Gras drän - gen sich an mein Herz.
Wolf uses the second three-bar span (mm. 5–7) for the two words “Frühling,
Geliebter” (see ex. 7.1 (web) ). The words are set separately, each with synco-
pations from beat 2 over beat 3, and the second syllable of “Früh-ling” arrives on
a syncopated quarter. Recall that the syntactical statement has already been com-
pleted, and that with these words the poet calls out to the other and names him/
her as spring and beloved. Wolf ’s setting allows the words to resonate, so to
speak.
At this point, we may describe Wolf ’s vocal syncopations more precisely
and explore their variability. First, let us formally define syncopation as an
event that begins on a relatively weak beat and sustains over a stronger beat. In
4/4, for instance, a syncopation may begin on beat 2 (at the quarter-note level)
and sustain over beat 3 (at the half-note level), or begin on beat 4 (at the quar-
ter-note level) and sustain over the downbeat (at the half- and whole-note
levels).19 We call both of these “half-note” syncopations; the name refers to the
duration of the syncopated event. Similarly, an event may begin on beat 3 (at
the half-note level) and sustain over the downbeat (at the whole-note level).
We call this a “whole-note” syncopation. Syncopations at the tactus level begin
on an offbeat and sustain over the beat.
Note that Krebs’s displacement dissonances include syncopations, but they
also include weak-beat or offbeat accents, and rhythmic groupings that are offset
from a primary metric layer—events are not necessarily sustained over the stronger
beat.20 Also, whereas a displacement dissonance involves two (or more) metric
layers, syncopation may involve an individual event.21 This is especially relevant to
the variability of Wolf ’s vocal lines.
The prototypical syncopation in duple metric hierarchies or duple portions
of a given metric hierarchy is “even”; the duration before and after the omitted
(sustained-over) beat is equal. Thus, the syncopation that begins on beat 2 in 4/4
will typically sustain for a half-note: one quarter before beat 3 and one quarter
after. The syncopation that begins on beat 4 in 4/4 will also typically sustain for a
half: one quarter before the downbeat and one quarter after.22
The duration of a syncopation may, however, be internally articulated, and this
is one of the sources of variability in Wolf ’s vocal rhythms. Thus, a “half-note” syn-
copation may be internally articulated as <qYee>; see Wolf ’s setting of “Geliebter”
in m. 6. In mm. 10–11, the accented syllables of “wón-ne sich án (mein Herz
drängt)” arrive on beats 4 and 2; they imply a half-note syncopation over the down-
beat, but this half note is internally articulated with a quarter-note syncopation, as
<eeYee>. Later in the song, Wolf presents whole-note syncopations that are
internally articulated with quarter syncopations; these can be found in example 7.4
(web) , mm. 45–46 (on “schweben die”) and 49–50 (on “sehnenden”). In all of
these instances, pitches are sustained over the central strong beat, but there are
further divisions at other moments.
Another source of variability is in the resolution of syncopations. Syncopations
typically “resolve” with a shorter event and an arrival at the metric level of the
omitted beat, just above the metric level of the onset. (The arrival may also
19. The “metric level” of a given beat here generally refers to the highest level that it is associated with.
The next lower level may also be relevant, however, especially if there is a “gap” between the level of
the onset and that of the omitted (sustained over) beat. This is the case in the syncopation that
begins on beat 4 (at the quarter-note level) and sustains over the 4/4 downbeat (at the half- and
whole-note levels).
20. See Harald Krebs, Fantasy Pieces: Metrical Dissonance in the Music of Robert Schumann (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1999), 33. Daphne Leong uses the term “syncopes” to specify events that
are sustained over a relatively strong beat, and “offbeats” for stressed events that occur on weak beats
but are not sustained over the following strong beats. Leong also observes that her “syncopes” cor-
respond with historical definitions of syncopation, definitions by Rameau, Rousseau, and Riemann.
See Leong, “Generalizing Syncopation: Contour, Duration, and Weight,” Theory and Practice 34
(forthcoming, 2010).
21. Leong discusses a continuum of displacement, with the individual events at one end and entire
metric structures at the other; see “Generalizing Syncopation.”
22. The piano syncopations in Schumann’s “Im wunderschönen Monat Mai,” Op. 48 No. 1, and “Hör’ ich
das Liedchen klingen,” Op. 48 No. 10, are atypical in this regard; see examples 2.9 and 2.10.
articulate a higher metric level.) The quarter-note syncopation in m. 2, at “Wie im

Mor-(gen-glanze),” resolves in the typical manner; the quarter note sustains over
beat 2 and it resolves via an eighth onto beat 3. The A4 of “glan-(ze)” sets up a half-
note syncopation, but this resolves via the series of quarter-note syncopations, as
we noted above. “Frühling” in m. 5 also sets up a half-note syncopation, it also
shifts to a quarter syncopation, but in this case the quarter syncopation itself does
not resolve. The setting of “unendliche” in mm. 14–15 resolves a half-note synco-
pation via a single lower-level quarter syncopation. All of these instances together
indicate some of the variability in Wolf ’s use of vocal syncopations.
Rhythmic Narrative
The analysis that I have just given focuses on individual moments and does not
provide a larger rhythmic narrative. How might one get a feeling for rhythmic nar-
rative in Wolf ’s vocal lines? The annotations above the vocal line in example 7.1
(web) provide one way. The annotations focus on the half-note level; this hap-
pens to yield the most interesting information here. Where the singer articulates a
beat at the half-note level, I provide the beat number on its own; where the singer
syncopates or sustains over a beat, I provide the number in parentheses. Thus, we
see straightaway how the first phrase articulates beat 3 at “Mor-gen,” syncopates
over beats 1 and 3 and then arrives at beat 1 for “an-glühst,” how “Frühling” and
“Geliebter” syncopate over all beats at the half-note level, and how “Mit tau-send-
fa-cher Lie-bes” suddenly articulates three beats at this level in a row. The singer
settles even more strongly into accordance with the piano’s half-note pulse with
the words “ewigen Wärme heilig Gefühl” (beats 3, 1, 3, and 1 articulated in
sequence), only to introduce a further set of syncopations for “unendliche Schöne.”
This kind of metric is key to understanding the expressive dynamic of Wolf ’s vocal
lines, for the singer’s purposeful rhythmic independence from the piano’s meter is
an index of the poet’s desire and yearning, from moment to moment.23
We need to keep the strength and quality of metric layers in the accompani-
ment in mind as we interpret these annotations. In other words, one should not be
misled by the 4/4 time signature into assuming that the bar-line periodicity is
significant to how we hear any given passage. In this case the half-note and bar-line
pulses should be evident, but in a subtle, flowing manner. The half-note layer is
projected by melodic patterns in the right hand in mm. 2–10; see the bracketed “x”
patterns in mm. 2–3 and the transposition of these patterns in mm. 5–6 and 8–9.
The parallelism of the “y” patterns in mm. 3–4 then contributes to our sense of the
bar-line pulse; these are transposed in mm. 6–7 and 9–10. Slur markings also
23. Lawrence Kramer comments on the vocal rhythms in this song: “Ganymede’s vocal line is a model
of suppleness and fluidity. Its phrases never begin on the downbeat of a measure, and they end there
only once or twice, as if by chance, during the first half of the song. It is continually syncopated but
never locked into strong cross-rhythms. . . . Like libidinal desire, the vocal line responds to fixities
and boundaries by sliding past them.” Kramer, Music as Cultural Practice, 1800–1900 (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1990), 173.
indicate that the pianist should group the left-hand chords in fours, with the bar-
line pulse. The bar-line pulse emerges even more clearly in mm. 11–12, as Cdim6
and Bb6 harmonies alternate, and there are notable harmonic changes on the
downbeats of mm. 13, 14, and 15.
We should also note how the syncopations interact with the broad three-bar
periodicities (= six half notes). It is typical of Wolf, for instance, that the singer
does not enter with the piano at the beginning of any of these three spans. The
piano, in Wolf ’s songs, tends to establish the beginnings of metric spans; the voice
enters after. The singer’s declamation of “Mit tausendfacher Liebeswonne” in the
last of the three-bar spans is also notable. She articulates beats 3, 1, and 3 just after
the beginning of the span, uses the metric impulses to rise to a melodic climax on
“Lie-(bes),” and then sustains this over beats 1 and 3 of the third measure. It is the
marvelous plenitude of love’s delights that presses on the poet’s heart; the singer in
Wolf ’s song performs this plenitude with a melodic climax that stretches nearly to
the end of the three-bar span, overflowing the subsequent boundary with a rush of
eighths and syncopations.
The layered rhythms of pulsating chords, melodic lines, and vocal rhythms
give way in mm. 16–22 to a more homorhythmic texture. It is here that the poet
discovers and gives voice to his own desire, to hold spring—the beloved—in his
arms, and for the first time Wolf gives the singer a chance to dictate the rhythmic
flow (in dialogue with the pianist). Thus the rhythmic relationship between voice
and piano reflects the relationship between the poet and his surroundings, or, to
put it in active terms, the singer and piano perform their roles as poet and sur-
rounding rhythmically. The singer as poet takes active control of the temporal flow
as he gives expression to his own active desire.
The entire first section of the poem leads to this moment, as does the first sec-
tion of the song. It is worth noting that harmony works with rhythm to turn this
moment into a focal point. The piano leads twice from the tonic D major triad to
an augmented triad (Bb, D, F# in m. 17, respelled as A#, D, F# in m. 19) over G. The
pitch classes of the augmented triad are precisely those held in common by the
three major-third related harmonies of mm. 2–10. (The G at the root of the har-
mony gives it a subdominant quality, and this is used at the end of the song for
quintessentially Wolfian “plagal” cadences.)
We shall not explore “Ganymed” as a whole—I use it here mainly to introduce
features of Wolf ’s rhythmic practice—but it will be of interest in this context to
compare the beginning of the song with a passage near the end. Wolf sets the song
as a whole in a ternary (ABA1) form, and we can compare the vocal rhythms of
mm. 2–10 with later rhythms over a similar accompanimental substrate. Example 7.4
(web) provides the return of the A section, marked pianissimo and “Wie zu
Anfang” (as at the beginning). The three-bar spans of D major, F# major, and Bb
major harmony are marked again with brackets. The right-hand line is the same as
earlier, but the left hand has gradually rising tremolos in place of the pulsating
chords. The voice is once again syncopated through this passage, but in a manner
that has few specific parallels with the earlier rhythm. “Hinauf! Hinauf strebt’s”
(Upward! Upward it strives) presents syncopations over beats 1, and then 1 and 3
(compare with the more rapid declamation of mm. 2–4). The accented syllables of
“Es schwében die Wólken” (the clouds float) articulate beat 3 in one measure and
beat 3 again in the next; they form the internally articulated whole-note syncopa-
tion mentioned above, and Wolf uses the same rhythm for “seh-nen-den Lie-be” in
the third three-bar span. The voice thus continues to be speechlike in its rhythmic
freedom and lyrical in its syncopations and sustained lines.
Comparisons with Schubert’s “Ganymed”
How does the rhythm of Wolf ’s “Ganymed” from 1889 compare with that of
Schubert’s “Ganymed” from 1817? Example 7.5(web) provides a score for the
first part of Schubert’s song. (Schubert sets “Dass ich dich fassen möcht / in diesen
Arm!” together with the following lines in the second section of the song; this is
not included in the example.) The absence of syncopations in the vocal line is one
obvious difference. Just as significant, however, is the fact that Schubert forms his
vocal line with parallel, repeating, or sequenced phrase segments. Thus, the vocal
line for “Wie im Morgenglanze” repeats at “du rings mich anglühst,” regardless of
the differences in poetic rhythm. The gesture of “Frühling” is repeated a step down
for “Geliebter,” and the line for “Mit tausendfacher Liebeswonne” is repeated for
“sich an mein Herze drängt.” Schubert arranges the words to fit the repeating
melodic patterns, and in the case of “Herze” he re-forms the word. (It is “Herz” in
Goethe’s poem and Wolf ’s song.) The lines “deiner ewigen Wärme / heilig Gefühl”
are set in a parallel fashion, the first descending from 5 to 3 and the second from 5
to 2 (in a locally implied Ab minor). It is these repetitions and parallelisms together
with the regular harmonic rhythm that create the feeling of songfulness, so differ-
ent from the declamatory lyricism of Wolf ’s setting.24
It should be emphasized that the issue is not simply one of regularity in
Schubert versus irregularity in Wolf or congruence in Schubert versus incongru-
ence in Wolf. There is a fluidity in Schubert’s setting, some variability in declama-
tory rhythm, and discrepancies between the piano and voice. Measure 8, for
instance, introduces an elision and hypermetric reinterpretation, or one can say
that the piano introduction is seven bars long. While the piano has four-bar phrases
in mm. 8–11 and 12–15, the singer enters in mm. 9 and 13. The initial lines are set
with one poetic foot per bar, strong syllables on the downbeats; Schubert then off-
sets the declamation for “Frühling, Geliebter” so that strong syllables arrive on beat
3. He continues with more rapid declamation for “Mit tausendfacher Liebeswonne”
and “sich an mein Herze drängt,” now in the downbeat-oriented schemas [1 - 3, 4 /
1 -] and [1 - - 4 / 1 -]. The declamation returns to one poetic foot per bar for
“deiner ewigen Wärme / heilig Gefühl,” and the poetic feet of “unendliche Schöne”
each stretch out to two measures. Nonetheless, Schubert’s parallelisms override
24. Jürgen Thym discusses the songful nature of this setting with further observations on the poetic and
musical rhythms; see Thym, “Schubert’s Strategies in Setting Free Verse,” in Essays on Music and the
Spoken Word and on Surveying the Field, ed. Suzanne M. Lodato and David Francis Urrows
(Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2005), 92–100. This essay will be reproduced in Of Poetry and Song:
Approaches to the Nineteenth-Century Lied, ed. Jürgen Thym (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester
Press, forthcoming, 2010), 261–80.
differences of poetic rhythm, and the variability of Wolf ’s vocal rhythms is much
greater. There are no declamatory schemas as such in the first part of Wolf ’s
“Ganymed.”
The analysis of Wolf ’s “Ganymed” has given us an initial sense for what is pos-
sible in Wolf ’s settings. The variable vocal rhythms may be interpreted in relation
to poetic rhythm and expressive function. Syncopations are introduced at the level
of the tactus and one and two levels higher, and syncopated passages contrast with
moments of rhythmic consonance. The variability creates a speechlike effect even
when the vocal line does not literally reflect the rhythms of a poetic reading.25
Pentameter Settings from the Italian Songbook (Heyse):

Variable Declamation within Regular Frames
Many of Wolf ’s songs have variable vocal rhythms, set within regular two- and
four-bar periodicities. These periodicities may be linked to poetic lines, with each
line set in a two-bar span, much as in the traditional Lied. It is often the piano,
however, that establishes and maintains the regular periodicities; the voice moves
with varying degrees of freedom within or against the two- or four-bar spans. The
singer commonly begins poetic lines after the downbeat, and he or she may synco-
pate over other bar lines. In this way, the singer continues to convey speechlike
effects, even if the vocal rhythm is not as variable as that of “Ganymed.” The basic
two- or four-bar periodicity may also come under pressure in the course of a song
from a more expansive expressivity that the poem demands (or rather that Wolf
demands from its musical performance).26
The songs in the Italian Songbook are an especially rich source for the study of
rhythmic play within regular frames. The poetic meter itself is regular and consis-
tent; all forty-six poems in Wolf ’s songbook use iambic pentameter. The poems are
compact, mostly of six or eight lines. As Amanda Glauert observes, the first line of
the first song can be read as a statement of artistic intent: “Auch kleine Dinge kön-
nen uns entzücken” (Small things can also enchant us).27
Wolf commonly sets the pentameter lines in two-bar spans of a quadruple
meter, usually 4/4, or in four-bar spans of a duple meter, usually 2/4 or 6/8. He
tends to set the first accented syllable not on the downbeat as Schubert would, but
on the second beat. He thus has seven beats for the five poetic feet, and he uses the
25. Here I echo an observation made by Walther Dürr: “It is this changing play of metric determinacy
[Bindung] and rhythmic freedom that makes Wolf ’s declamation seem so closely tied to the words—
even when it works against the natural accentuation of the words.” See Walther Dürr, Das deutsche
Sololied im 19. Jahrhudert: Untersuchungen zu Sprache und Musik (Wilhelmshaven: Heinrichshofen,
1984), 138.
26. Lawrence Kramer writes, “The tight frame is articulated primarily by the piano; its effect is to con-
tain (include and limit) the energies of the voice, even at the risk of being appropriated by them.”
Kramer, “Hugo Wolf: Subjectivity in the Fin-de-Siècle Lied,” 197.
27. See Glauert, Hugo Wolf and the Wagnerian Inheritance, 32.
two extra beats to expand two of the poetic feet. Which two poetic feet get expanded
depends on a combination of declamatory, expressive, and musical concerns.
“Der Mond hat eine schwere Klag’ erhoben”
Song No. 7, “Der Mond hat eine schwere Klag’ erhoben” (The moon has lodged a
grave complaint) illustrates this well; a score is given in example 7.6 (web) . The
piano sets up a temporal frame with dotted rhythms that articulate the half-note
layer, and lamenting tetrachordal descents in two-bar spans. Each poetic line is set
in a two-bar span, and most of the lines begin with an eighth pickup to the second
beat. Which poetic feet does Wolf expand, and how does this play out in musical
rhythm? In line 1, he expands the first and fifth poetic feet: “Der Mond hat eine
schwere Klag’ erhoben.” The first foot stretches in a syncopation over beat three in
the first measure, and the final foot stretches over beats 3 and 4 in the second mea-
sure. (Annotations show the declamatory schema.) In line 2, he expands the third
and fourth poetic feet: “Und vor dem Herrn die Sache kund gemacht.” The third
foot syncopates over the bar line, the fourth foot over beat 3. Table 7.1 shows which
feet are expanded for all eight lines. One notices that Wolf expands a different pair
of poetic feet in each of the first four lines. It is the variety within a consistent
rhythmic setup that is of special interest here.
How might we interpret these choices in relation to the rhythms of poetic rec-
itation, rhythms that one imagines Wolf using in his own reading? There are three
basic kinds of emphasis at Wolf ’s disposal: (1) the metrical emphasis of beats 1
Table 7.1: Expanded Poetic Feet in “Der Mond hat eine schwere Klag’ erhoben”
Poem with Underlines for Expanded Expanded Translation with Corresponding
Syllables in Wolf ’s Settinga Feet Underlinesb
1. Der Mond hat eine schwere Klag’ erhoben 1 and 5 The moon has lodged a grave
complaint
2. Und vor dem Herrn die Sache kund 3 and 4 And brought the matter before the
gemacht: Lord:
3. Er wolle nicht mehr stehn am 3 and 5 He would no longer wish to remain
Himmel droben, up there in heaven,
4. Du habest ihn um seinen Glanz gebracht. 1 and 4 For you have deprived him of his
radience.
5. Als er zuletzt das sternenheer gezählt, 3 and 5 When he last counted the multitude
of stars,
6. Da hab es an der vollen Zahl gefehlt; 3 and 5 Their full number was not complete;
7. Zwei von den schönsten habest du 1, 3, and 5c Two of the most beautiful you have
entwendet: taken:
8. Die beiden Augen dort, die mich verblendet. 3 and 5 Those two eyes there, which dazzled
me.
a
The poetic text is from Miller, The Ring of Words, 134.
b
The translation was prepared in consultation with Miller, The Ring of Words, 135, and a translation by Donna
Bareket on “The Lied and Art Song Texts Page,” http://www.recmusic.org/lieder/ (accessed June 5, 2008).
c
Wolf sets line 7 with “Zwei” on the downbeat; this line therefore expands three poetic feet.
and 3; (2) the agogic emphasis of lengthened syllables; and (3) contour emphasis,
especially with melodic high points.28 Lengthened syllables, in turn, may receive
the metrical emphasis of beats 1 or 3 or the counter-metrical emphasis of syn-
copation. Thus, in the first line “Der Mond” receives a syncopated agogic emphasis,
“schwe-re” receives the metrical emphasis of a downbeat, and “er-ho-ben” receives
the metrical agogic emphasis.
Let us focus here especially on the lengthened syllables, those underlined in
table 7.1. Most of the expanded feet are in fact those that would, or at least could,
receive greater emphasis, but there is more to it than that. “Der Mond hat eine
schwere Klag’ erhoben” is a clear, natural reading; it emphasizes the subject and
verb. The syncopation of “Der Mond” ensures that “eine” does not arrive on
the third beat (a strong quarter), which is appropriate. One could emphasize
either “schwere” (grave) or “Klag’” (complaint) in an overtly dramatized reading;
in comparison, Wolf ’s setting is rather straight. The word “schwere” of course
receives a metrical accent, but it is within a continuous stream of eighths. The
matter-of-factness is precisely the point; it is a beautifully understated reading,
mostly in repeated pitches. The first two lines present the moon as plaintiff; they
juxtapose the mundane language of jurisdiction with romantic metaphor and a
matter of the heart.29 Wolf ’s reading matches the ironic detachment of the lan-
guage, which hides deeper feelings and pretends not to notice the surreal. (The
repeated Gbs in the vocal line hold steady, becoming dissonant and then consonant
again as the piano chords step down; it is as if they hide the deeper emotions as
well.) Similarly, one can imagine readings of the third line that expand “wolle”
(would want), “nicht mehr” (no longer) or “Himmel” (heaven). Wolf follows the
rhythm of a simple reading; he separates the subject and verb clause, “Er wolle
nicht mehr stehn” from the rest, “am Himmel droben.”
One of the early critiques of the “modern” Lied, from Wolf on, is that precise
declamation following the sense of the words dissolves poetry into prose.30 That is
certainly not the case here. Not only are the poetic lines distinct, but Wolf also uses
rhythm to reinforce the rhymes. We get matching rhythms for “erhoben” and “dro-
ben” at the end of lines 1 and 3, and “gemacht” and “gebracht” at the end of lines 2
and 4. Rhythm and melodic motive reinforce rhyme at the end of lines 5 and 6
(“gezählt” and “gefehlt”), and there is a rhythmic correspondence for the end of
lines 7 and 8 (“entwendet” and “verblendet”).
Wolf responds in subtle and telling ways to further variations in the poetic
rhythm. Following the iambic meter, one would read the fourth line “du hábest íhn
um séinen Glánz gebrácht,” but one might accent “du” (you) as well. All this is your
fault, the poet seems to say. Wolf has it both ways: “du” is emphasized with a dynam-
ically accented quarter note on Db5 (the highest pitch in the song) and “há-(best)”
28. See the discussion of accent in chap. 2 here; and Carl Dahlhaus, “Deklamationsprobleme in Hugo
Wolfs Italienischem Liederbuch,” in Liedstudien; Wolfgang Osthoff zum 60. Geburtstag, ed. Martin
Just and Reinhard Wiesend (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1989), 444–45.
29. See Sams, The Songs of Hugo Wolf, 322–23.
30. Louis, Die deutsche Musik der Gegenwart, 229. Louis goes on to indicate that Cornelius and Wolf,
among the moderns, sought out a balance between the demands of poetic meter and sense. See also
Kravitt, The Lied, 4.
arrives on the metrically stronger third beat.31 (I include both “du” and “ha-(best)”
as accented syllables in the declamatory schema annotations above the vocal line.)
A reading of the seventh line would substitute a trochee for the initial iamb, “zwéi
von den Schö́nsten” instead of “zwei vón den Schö́nsten,” and this certainly moti-
vates the downbeat placement of “zwei” in Wolf ’s setting. Wolf responds to the only
internal caesura, the comma in the last line, with an eighth rest on the downbeat.
Also, whereas “dort,” the third accented syllable with a comma, gets extra time, the
contour of the line emphasizes “die beiden Au-gen,” as is appropriate. These are
some of the subtleties that link Wolf ’s vocal rhythms with those of poetic
recitation.
Other Pentameter Settings
Now, recall that the basic rhythmic setup in “Der Mond hat eine schwere Klag’
erhoben” emerges from the fact that pentameter lines are set beginning on the
second beat of eight-beat spans. With the seven remaining beats, there is room to
expand two of the poetic feet, as we have noted. In a mathematical formula, with
“b” as the beat, 3x1b + 2x2b = 7b. There are songs with other declamatory patterns
and more variable vocal rhythms, but the basic seven-beat setup, starting after a
downbeat, recurs throughout the Italian Songbook. Example 7.7 shows the first line
of “Auch kleine Dinge” (No. 1), with an expansion of the second and fifth poetic
feet. Example 7.8 shows the first line of “Nun lass uns Frieden schliessen”; here the
line is set in four bars of 6/8, and Wolf expands the third and fifth poetic feet.
Example 7.7: “Auch kleine Dinge,” Italian Songbook No. 1, mm. 5–8
5
[- 2

3 -
1

2 3

-]

Auch klei - ne Din - ge kön - nen uns ent - zü - cken,

7 [- 2 3 - 1 2 3 -]

auch klei - ne Din - ge kön - nen teu - er sein. Be
Example 7.8: “Nun lass uns Frieden schliessen,” Italian Songbook No. 8, mm. 1–4
Declamatory schema in relation to duple hypermeasures

[- 2 3 4 - 2 3 -]
6
8
Nun lass uns Frie - den schlie - ssen, lieb - stes Le - ben,
31. Kravitt similarly observes how Wolf uses a combination of syncopation and metric accent to
emphasize consecutive syllables. Kravitt, The Lied, 303.
Table 7.2: Pentameter Line Schemas in the Italian Songbook, Songs 1, 2, 3, 7, and 8
Songs with one or more lines in the given
Declamatory Schema Expanded Feet schema
[- 2 - 4 / 1, 2, 3 -] 1 and 5 Songs 2, 7, and 8*

[- 2, 3 - / 1, 2, 3 -] 2 and 5 Songs 1 and 8*
[- 2, 3, 4 / - 2, 3 -] 3 and 5 Songs 1, 2, 3, 7, and 8*
[- 2, 3, 4 / 1 - 3 -] 4 and 5 -
[- 2 - 4 / 1, 2 - 4] 1 and 4 Songs 2, 3, and 7
[- 2, 3 - / 1, 2 - 4] 2 and 4 Song 3
[- 2, 3, 4 / - 2 - 4] 3 and 4 Songs 3 and 7
[- 2 - 4 / 1 - 3, 4] 1 and 3 -
[- 2, 3 - / 1 - 3, 4] 2 and 3 -
[- 2 - 4 / - 2, 3, 4] 1 and 2 -
* The schemas for Song 8 are figured within a two-bar hypermeter.
In the abstract, there are ten possibilities for expanding two of the five poetic
feet. Table 7.2 lists all ten possibilities and indicates their occurrences in five of the
early songs that use the basic setup. One notices that the declamatory schemas in
these songs all expand either the fourth or fifth poetic foot, but not both; there are
no songs with the schema [- 2, 3, 4 / 1 - 3 -]. (One does find instances of this
schema later in the Italian Songbook; see the opening lines in Songs 16, 28, and 34,
for instance.) One also notices that all five songs include at least one line with the
schema [- 2, 3, 4 / - 2, 3 -]. This expands the third and fifth poetic feet, with a
syncopation over the bar line and an arrival on beat 3 of the second measure.
Conversely, an expansion of the second and fourth poetic feet generates the schema
[- 2, 3 - / 1, 2 - 4], with metrical alignment at the beginning and a syncopation over
beat 3 at the end. This is one of the least common patterns; it occurs only in Song 3
(at “Orvieto’s Dom steigt so voll Herrlichkeit”).
The declamatory logic for Schubert’s pentameter settings is different. Since
lines are typically set from the beginnings of metric and hypermetric spans, there
are commonly four (or eight) metric units for the pentameter lines. The composi-
tional decision then is not which two feet to expand, as in Wolf, but which two feet
to contract. (See ex. 1.14 and the discussion of Fehn and Hallmark’s research in
chap. 1.) Wolf does occasionally use this model; see, for instance, “Selig ihr Blinden”
in the Italian Songbook (No. 5).32
The feeling of the vocal rhythm in Wolf ’s Italian Songbook depends, of course,
on the rhythmic shaping of the piano. In “Der Mond hat eine schwere Klag’ erho-
ben,” the piano’s dotted rhythms project the half-note layer, as we observed, and
the two-bar patterns are also clear. “Auch kleine Dinge,” the first song, is inter-
esting in that the piano’s descending progression is four bars long rather than two,
32. Wolf sets the pentameter lines of “Jägerlied” from the Mörike songs (No. 4) in individual 5/4 mea-
sures. “Denk’ es, O Seele!” from the Mörike songs (No. 39) sets pentameter lines in variable declam-
atory rhythms. For a further comparison of pentameter settings, see the discussion of Schubert’s
“Ungeduld” and “Pause,” and Wolf ’s “Dass doch gemalt all’ deine Reize wären,” in chap. 1.
and the left hand includes both half-note and quarter syncopations (see ex. 7.9).
Wolf expands the second and fifth poetic feet here, neither of them syncopating
over a bar line or third beat. In fact, this is the only song in the sample above that
repeatedly expands the second and fifth poetic feet. (Song 8, listed in the table
above, features a single line with this pattern.) Thus, in this case the piano com-
pensates for the lack of vocal syncopations with its own syncopated patterns. It is
still the piano, however, that provides a clear downbeat every four measures; the
singer comes in with the usual pickup to beat two. The top pitches of the right-hand
figuration can be heard as subtle 2+1 and 4+3 layers (unit = sixteenth), adding yet
another layer to the metric wave.33
Example 7.9: “Auch kleine Dinge,” Italian Songbook No. 1, mm. 5–9
5
4
4
Auch klei - ne Din - ge kön - nen uns ent - zü - cken,
4
4
immer #

4
4
7

auch klei - ne Din - ge kön - nen teu - er sein. Be -

9

denkt, wie gern wir

33. For further remarks on this song and especially the dynamics of closure in its confined form, see
Glauert, Hugo Wolf and the Wagnerian Inheritance, 33–36.
In “Mir ward gesagt,” the second song, the piano articulates several of the two-
bar spans in 3+3+2 beat groupings. Example 7.10a shows the beginning of the
song; brackets under the left hand show the grouping.34 Wolf has the singer expand
the third and fifth poetic feet, producing the characteristic syncopation over the
bar line. Here, however, the lengthened feet coincide with and reinforce the piano’s
uneven groupings. It is only toward the end of the song that the piano begins to
articulate the half-note layer clearly. Example 7.10b shows the setting of the seventh
line; the expanded first and fourth poetic feet syncopate over a clearly articulated
half-note pulse. There is a 3+3+2 grouping in the left-hand countermelody; the
pianist may choose to bring this out, but it tends to be obscured by the strength of
the harmonic changes and continuous right-hand pulsations.
Example 7.10: “Mir ward gesagt,” Italian Songbook No. 2, mm. 1–2 (a) and 14–15 (b)
4
(a)
4
Mir ward ge - sagt, du rei - sest in die Fer - ne.
4
4
#
4 (zart und ausdrucksvoll)
4
(b)
4
14

4
Mit Thrä - nen bin ich bei dir al - ler - wärts
4

4
%
4
4
“Im Frühling” (Mörike)
Irregular Poetic Rhythms
The two- or four-bar periodicities are immediately apparent in songs like “Mir
ward gesagt” and “Auch kleine Dinge.” Harmonic or textural changes mark the
beginning of each two- or four-bar span, and the spans relate to each other via
34. For an alternative metric interpretation, see Stein, Hugo Wolf’s Lieder and Extensions of Tonality, 163.
repetition, sequencing, or other parallelisms. While there is some variation in the

declamatory rhythm, vocal phrases basically sit within the two- or four-bar spans.
“Im Frühling” (In the Spring) from the Mörike songs (No. 13) is fascinating in that
Wolf ’s “basic four” rhythm—if we might call it that—is present but not at all
obvious. The piano articulates four-bar spans in a variety of ways: sometimes as
one continuous phrase, sometimes as repeated or sequenced 2+2 segments, and
sometimes as a one-by-one accumulation of individual measures. The song is slow,
marked Gemächlich (leisurely, unhurried), and the four-bar span is thus quite long
in clock time. The vocal line is also situated freely over the four-bar spans, often
overlapping with phrase boundaries in the piano. Thus, one might easily hear the
song, or even study and sing it, without being aware of the four-bar spans. The
rhythm feels free, unencumbered by the shackles of musical meter, as Schumann
might have put it.35 If one queries the feeling of rhythmic freedom, however, if one
attends closely to the musical markers of time, the broad rhythmic waves become
apparent. The effect then is one of freedom vis-à-vis a continually evolving but
nonetheless temporally ordered world. Here I provide an extended analysis,
beginning with poetic meaning and structure, then moving into the piano rhythms,
and concluding with the rhythms of the voice.
Mörike’s poem “Im Frühling” is less about spring itself than about the feelings
of love that arise in springtime, and further, it is less about the feelings themselves
than about a continuous reflective questioning of them.
Hier lieg’ ich auf dem Here I lie on the springtime hill:
Frühlingshügel:
Die Wolke wird mein Flügel, The cloud becomes my wing,
Ein Vogel fliegt mir voraus. A bird flies ahead of me.
Ach, sag’ mir, all-einzige Liebe, Ah, tell me, one and only love,
5. Wo du bleibst, dass ich bei dir bliebe! Where you stay, that I may stay with you!
Doch du und die Lüfte, ihr habt But you and the breezes, you have
kein Haus. no home.
Der Sonnenblume gleich steht mein Like a sunflower my mind stands open,
Gemüte offen,
Sehnend, Yearning,
Sich dehnend Expanding,
10. In Lieben und Hoffen. In love and hope.
Frühling, was bist du gewillt? Spring, what is it that you want?
Wann werd’ ich gestillt? When will I be stilled?
Die Wolke seh’ ich wandeln und I see the cloud moving and the stream,
den Fluß,
Es dringt der Sonne goldner Kuß The sun’s golden kiss penetrates
(continued )
35. See Schumann’s review of Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique as translated in Ian Bent, Music Analysis
in the Nineteenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 2:175. Schumann excised
part of the relevant passage when he edited the review for his Gesammelte Schriften; Bent traces the
editorial changes.
15. Mir tief bis in’s Geblüt hinein; Deep into my veins;
Die Augen, wunderbar berauschet, The eyes, wondrously intoxicated,
Tun, als schliefen sie ein, Pretend to fall asleep
Nur noch das Ohr dem Ton der Only the ear still listens to the hum of
Biene lauschet. | the bee.
Ich denke Diess und denke Das, I think of this and think of that,
20. Ich sehne mich, und weiß nicht recht, I yearn, and do not know exactly what
nach was: for,
Halb ist es Lust, halb ist es Klage; It is half pleasure, half lament;
Mein Herz, o sage, My heart, oh tell me,
Was webst du für Erinnerung What kind of memory are you weaving
In golden grüner Zweige In the twilight of gold green branches?
Dämmerung?
25. —Alte unnennbare Tage!36 —Old unnamable days!37
The probing quality of the introspective questioning is perhaps most apparent

in lines 19–20, “Ich denke Diess und denke Das, / ich sehne mich und weiß nicht
recht, nach was” (I think of this and think of that, / I yearn and do not know exactly
what for). This psychologism is typical of Mörike, and it is one of the things that
distinguishes this spring poem from earlier ones, Goethe’s Ganymed, for instance,
or Heine’s Im wunderschönen Monat Mai.38 There is also a reflective reporting-on-
the-self in line 1, “Hier lieg’ ich auf dem Frühlingshügel” (Here I lie on the spring-
time hill) and line 7, “Der Sonnenblume gleich steht mein Gemüte offen” (Like a
sunflower my mind stands open). In lines 16–18, the poet stands apart from him-
self and observes “die Augen” (the eyes) that pretend to fall asleep and “das Ohr”
(the ear) that catches the hum of the bee. Along with the lines of reflective obser-
vation, there are pressing questions directed to love (lines 4–5), spring (lines
11–12), and the heart (lines 22–24). Where do you stay, love, what is it that you
want, when will I be stilled, spring, what kind of memory are you weaving, oh tell
me, heart. (The address in line 4 is to love itself, not the beloved.) This is the ques-
tioning of a self that looks within and finds the unknown. The days, these days of
an open fluctuating self, cannot be named (line 25).
The poem itself is metrically irregular. Trimeter and tetrameter lines are
common but we also get the hexameter line “Der Sónnenblúme gléich stéht mein
Gemǘte óffen” (7), followed by two monometer lines, “séhnend” (8) and “sich déh-
nend” (9), several dimeter lines (10, 12, 22), and several pentameter lines (5, 18, 20).
It is this poetic irregularity, so different from the regular lines of Heyse’s transla-
tions in the Italian Songbook, that sets up Wolf ’s variable vocal rhythms.
Many of the lines are complete clauses or sentences. Even the short
lines“sehnend” and “sich dehnend” (8–9) seem to stand on their own, as descrip-
tive supplements to line 7, and the brevity of the lines highlights their expressive
36. Eduard Mörike, Werke und Briefe, Vol. 1, Gedichte: Ausgabe von 1867, ed. Hans-Henrik Krummacher
(Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 2003), 42.
37. The translation was prepared in consultation with a translation by Eric Sams, available on “The Lied
and Art Song Texts Page,” http://www.recmusic.org/lieder/ (accessed June 9, 2008).
Nineteenth Century, ed. Rufus Hallmark (New York: Schirmer Books, 1996), 15–17.
intensity. There is an elastic tension, however, as “sich dehnend” (expanding) con-

tinues on into “in Lieben und Hoffen” (in love and hope); the poet performs the
expansion that he or she describes with the rhythm of the poetic lines. The stron-
gest enjambment is in lines 14–15: “Es dringt der Sonne goldner Kuß / Mir tief bis
in’s Geblüt hinein” (The sun’s golden kiss penetrates / Deep into my veins). Weaker
enjambments can be found in lines 4–5, 16–17, and 23–24.
There are further groupings at the next level up, which sometimes work with
the rhyme scheme. Thus, for instance, lines 1–3 and 4–6 group separately by syntax
and subject. The aab ccb rhyme scheme supports this grouping while also providing
a sonic link from one poetic cadence (end of line 3) to the next (end of line 6). The
abbacc rhyme scheme of the second stanza can likewise be heard to work with the
4+2 grouping of lines (as abba cc).
Such formal clarities dissolve in lines 13–18, as the poet drifts into somnolence.
I reproduce the stanza here with its basic-level 1+2+2+1 grouping. The rhyme
scheme, aabcbc, does not work with this, nor is there an obvious higher-level
grouping.
Die Wolke seh’ ich wandeln und (a) I see the cloud moving and
den Fluß, the stream,
Es dringt der Sonne goldner Kuß (a) The sun’s golden kiss penetrates
Mir tief bis in’s Geblüt hinein; (b) Deep into my veins;
Die Augen, wunderbar berauschet, (c) The eyes, wondrously intoxicated,
Tun, als schliefen sie ein, (b) Pretend to fall asleep,
Nur noch das Ohr dem Ton der Biene (c) Only the ear still listens to the hum of
lauschet. | the bee. |
The vertical spacer after line 18 would seem to mark a separation, like a stanza
break. On the one hand, lines 19–24 can be read as a final six-line stanza, with line 25
as a supplement and conclusion. On the other hand, the poem includes three ques-
tioning passages, in lines 4–5, 11–12, and 22–24, and these occur at or near the end of
each main section, with lines 13–25 as a single section. The vertical spacer allows for
this formal ambiguity by indicating a separation, but not a full stanza break.
Finally, we should note that lines 19–24 flow in a continuous thought process,
each line emerging naturally from the one before. The aabbcc rhyme scheme works
with this flow. The enigmatic final line, “Alte unnennbare Tage!” (Old unnamable
days!) echoes “Klage” and “sage” with its rhyme, but it abruptly shifts the focus from
the self to the time of experience or memory, and it thematizes the link between
language and that which can or cannot be known.
Musical Form and Energy
Wolf set “Im Frühling” on May 8, 1888, near the end of his initial three-month
immersion in Mörike. Given the Wagnerian feel of the song, the surprising thing
first of all is its traditional form. Wolf reads the poem in four stanzas, with lines
19–24 as the fourth stanza, and he sets these stanzas in an AA1BA2 form. This form
is marked in the score, in example 7.11 (web) . (To reflect Wolf ’s reading, I shall
henceforth refer to lines 13–18 as the third stanza and lines 19–24 as the fourth.)
Thus, the first, second, and fourth stanzas are essentially in strophic form, and the
third stanza presents a contrasting section. This form responds to the way stanzas
1, 2, and 4 each begins with reflexive observation and moves toward pressing ques-
tions. Lines 13–18, the B section in Wolf ’s setting, are indeed anomalous; it is here
that the poet drifts off, intoxicated by the sun’s golden kiss.
Within each of the A strophes there are four sections, marked a-d in
the score.39 It is here that the piano’s four-bar periodicities become apparent, and
the variable ways in which they are articulated. The “a” section consists of a single
continuous four-bar phrase, moving from the tonic (F# minor) to a cadence on
the dominant. The internal rhythmic structure and phenomenology of this phrase
are rather complex, however. Rhythmic structuring typically leads one to project
a four-bar span ahead of time via 2+2 parallelisms or 2+1+1 sentence structures.
Here Wolf ’s fluid melody and harmony disturb attempts at periodic projection.
We begin in the first measure and then seem to begin again in the second as the
singer repeats the piano’s motive. Measure 3 seems to be headed toward an
authentic cadence in F# at the downbeat of m. 4, but Wolf introduces a cadential
8/6/4–7/5/3 motion over G# (=V/C#) with a syncopation over the bar line. The
cadence in the second half of m. 4 happens to complete the four-bar span, but
without the score or a conscious counting effort one may not be aware that it has
been four measures. The cadence itself is relatively strong, with a 4–3 suspension
and melodic closure on C#.
The “b” section consists of two two-bar gestures. Measures 7–8 transpose
mm. 5–6 up a major second, with modifications that lead into m. 9. The rising
sequence creates an effect of intensification in stages, albeit no Beethovenian
driving energy; rather, each part slides smoothly into the next. The “c” section is
the climax and energetic plateau with a repeated two-bar phrase. The melody
hovers between D# and F#, with lower and upper chromatic neighbors for the F#.
The “d” section (with four-bar spans marked d1 and d2) functions as an energetic
descent and aftermath, and our attention is drawn to repeating single-measure
gestures. Nonetheless, the single measures accumulate one by one to form further
four-bar spans. Measure 17 marks the beginning of a new span (d2) as the linearly
directed bass arrives at F#, matching the right hand’s downbeat F#, and the right
hand introduces D$ in the latter part of m. 17. Measure 21 marks a further
boundary as the linear descent reaches its goal of C#, supporting a cadential 6/4
in F# minor. At this moment of transition we have one two-bar span, and m. 23
sets the new strophe in motion.
Thus, to summarize and reiterate, the A strophe has five four-bar spans, the
first in a rhythmically fluid phrase (section a), the second and third in 2+2 measure
units (sections b and c), and the fourth and fifth in accumulations of single-bar
gestures, 1+1+1+1 (subsections sections d1 and d2). The a section is self-contained,
relatively speaking, whereas sections b–d each lead onward. The climax and plateau
39. See Sams, The Songs of Hugo Wolf, 85.

are in section c, and energy diminishes from there to the beginning of the next
strophe. Strophe A1 is quite similar; the main difference is a shift within the strophe
to C major instead of B major (compare mm. 13 and 31, for instance) and adjust-
ments at the end that yield a single d section (mm. 35–38) and a four-bar transition
(mm. 39–42). The piano part in Strophe A2 is identical to that of strophe A. This is
the purely musical form that supports Wolf ’s flexible vocal setting. It is strophic
form, the same form that Goethe required of his composers, put here to such rad-
ically different expressive uses. The point, further, is that while there are recurrent
four-bar spans, the articulation of those spans varies widely. Thus, to simply say
that a regular piano phrasing supports the flexible vocal declamation is not
sufficient.40 We have to ask how the piano projects its metric and rhythmic layers
over time.
We would be remiss when describing this form if we were not to mention the
continuity of motivic development, and especially rhythmic features of this
development. The <h. h q> rhythms of mm. 1 and 2 present one common articula-
tion of the 6/4 bars, which the voice takes up at various points: see, for instance,
“sag’ mir” and “Lie-(be)” in mm. 10 and 12. It is an expansive rhythm with a clear
agogic accent on the notated downbeats. This is not, however, the rhythm that Wolf
takes up for motivic development. Rather, he develops a cross-rhythm with a hint
of hemiola, first introduced in the tenor voice in m. 1 with motion from A to A#.
Example 7.12 illustrates the development and transformation of this motive in the
A strophe. The incipit of m. 1 expands into a two-bar rhythm labeled x (mm. 2–3).
The anticipation of the second beat is characteristic, as are the quarters moving
toward the second downbeat (i.e., m. 3) and more settled rhythm of the second bar
(m. 3). The rhythmic motive x seems rather inchoate at this point; its identity and
boundaries are not yet clear. Measure 1 introduces the first part of the motive; this
expands into the rhythm of mm. 2–3, but the motive is hidden in an inner voice,
and m. 4 repeats the rhythm from m. 3. The motive becomes clear in mm. 5–6 and
7–8 as it divides the four-bar span into 2+2 segments, and in this context it takes
on the qualities of a Wagnerian yearning leitmotif with swelling dynamics. (Eric
Sams refers to mm. 5–8 as the “yearning” part of the strophe.)41 Wolf introduces
further variants in mm. 9–10 (x1) and 11–12 (x2). Motive y breaks off from x2 and
repeats throughout the final section of the strophe. Motive y is an upbeat-oriented
motive with a pickup to beat 2, neighbor-note motion, and a downbeat arrival; it
thus guarantees an ongoing flow through this final section of the strophe, even as
the energy diminishes.
It is the y motive that becomes a constant accompanimental figure in mm.
43–65, and now we can consider the unique rhythmic shaping of this middle
section (B). Wolf sets lines 13–18 in a manner that reflects their grouping, but he
also matches the dissolution of formal clarity in the poem (which, as we recall, is
40. Mosco Carner writes, “In the majority of his [Wolf ’s] settings he adheres to a rigid 2 plus 2 or 4 plus
4 design . . . an irregular phraseology is comparatively rare in Wolf.” Lawrence Kramer quotes Carner
and describes “a notably unyielding periodic mold.” The analysis here shows that rhythmic shapings
within 2+2 or 4+4 spans may be neither rigid nor unyielding. See Mosco Carner, Hugo Wolf Songs
(London: BBC, 1982), 8; and Kramer, “Hugo Wolf: Subjectivity in the Fin-de-Siècle Lied,” 197.
41. Sams, The Songs of Hugo Wolf, 85.
Example 7.12: Rhythmic Motives in the A Strophe of “Im Frühling”
x x
incipit x close
64
x x
x1 x2
9
y
13
y y
indicative of the poet’s somnolent state) with a thematic fragmentation and disso-
lution of four-bar periodicities. We shall consider the vocal rhythms presently, but
for now I continue to focus on the piano. The right hand initially projects two four-
bar spans with descending patterns of 6/3 and 6/4 chords; these are marked e1 and
e2 in the score. Brackets in the score show 5+3 groupings of dotted quarters in the
right-hand chords; the eight beats in this grouping begin on beat 2 and overlap
with the new harmony and onset of the new four-bar span (see m. 47). By analogy
with declamatory schemas, we could label this grouping as [2 / 1, 2 / 1, 2][1, 2 / 1].
The phrasing slurs in mm. 51–57 show that these right-hand patterns even out into
two four-beat groupings and then fragment into two two-beat groupings and a
final single beat. The groupings are all upbeat-oriented; we can label them as [2 / 1,
2 / 1] and [2 / 1], again by analogy with declamatory schemas. Measures 51–57
form a continuous seven-bar span, our first uneven span.
The passage that follows in mm. 58–65 is one of those moments where Wolf
performs a feature of the poem with such uncanny precision that one’s breath is
taken away.42 The y motive expands out to two-measure spans, now with neigh-
boring quarter-note motion that sustains through to beat 2 of the second measure,
where the piano articulates its chords in ethereal voicings. The harmonies main-
tain common tones; new pitches produce an ever-so-gradual sense of motion and
fine shadings. (A#07 yields to a Ger+6 with the C$ of “ein” in m. 60; this resolves in
traditional fashion to a 6/4 chord over B in m. 62. The 6/4 chord moves unexpectedly
42. My enthusiasm for this moment derives in no. small measure from a beautiful performance by
Arleen Auger and Irwin Gage on Hyperion, CDA66590.
to G7 via half-step motion from E to F; the G7 in turn resolves as a Ger+6.) With the
“immer ppp” (always ppp) marking, this passage conveys extreme calm but not
peace—a somnolence filled with unspoken raptures.
Rhythms of the Voice
To say that the voice moves freely over the piano’s four-bar rhythms in “Im
Frühling” is to state the obvious. Our task, the task for analysis, is to understand the
ins and outs of that freedom, how and why any given line is placed as it is, and what
patterning can be found even within the irregular rhythms. The analysis of poetic
and musical rhythms in the previous two sections provides the foundation for the
study of vocal rhythm. The voice must work with the poetic rhythms in one way or
another, and it exists as a layer in the musical world of the piano; this at least is the
relationship in Wolf ’s post-Wagnerian song. The irregularities here are akin to
those in “Ganymed,” discussed at the beginning of this chapter, but here we explore
vocal rhythm in an entire song with all its layers.
We may begin by orienting ourselves to the placement of six poetic lines in the
five four-bar spans of the first strophe. (Line numbers are marked in the score.) The
lines are situated in the four-bar spans, but they typically begin on the second bar
(or with a pickup to the second bar), and frequently conclude with the beginning of
a new span. Lines 2–3 combine in a single span, beginning each time in the second
measure of the piano’s two-bar gestures and overlapping with the beginning of
the following gesture. Line 4 extends with a melisma on “Lie-be” to arrive at the
beginning of section d1, and line 6 arrives with a vocal cadence in m. 21, at
the beginning of the two-bar transition. The voice thus reinforces musical conti-
nuity with its overlapping phrases, arriving so frequently at the beginning of two-
or four-bar spans. The logic of musical continuity is especially a logic of energetic
waves, of fluctuating emotional intensity. Lines 2–3 with their images of clouds,
wings, and flight intensify in stages; line 4 with its address to love is set in the
extended climax of section c (marked “leidenschaftlich,” impassioned). The inten-
sity eases for the question of line 5 (syntactically a continuation of line 4), and the
disappointment of line 6 is set in the continuing energetic descent of section d2.
It is with the close attention to the vocal phrases themselves that we find Wolf ’s
music aligning with Mörike’s poetic sound, rhythm, and syntax. Thus, for instance,
the parallel rhythms and contours of lines 2 and 3 reflect parallelisms in the poetic
lines:
die Wolke wird mein Flügel (2)

ein Vogel fliegt mir voraus. (3)
The poetic parallelism is not exact: both are iambic trimeter lines, “Wolke” and
“Vogel” match closely, but the “fl-g” of “fliegt” comes early in comparison with that
of “Flügel,” and “voraus” at the end of line 3 is a complete departure. Wolf ’s setting
responds accordingly; the final strong syllable of “vor-aus” arrives in m. 9 with no
analogy to the setting of “Flügel.” The partial parallelisms of both poetic sound and
vocal line reinforce a thought relationship: the clouds become my wings / a bird
(with wings) flies (like I now can) ahead of me. There are also instances where the
voice develops parallel structures apart from the words. The <D#-E-(A#)-F#> line
of “sag’ mir, all,” for instance, is repeated almost exactly in the <D#-E-(G)-F#> line
of “Liebe”; there is no poetic parallelism to go along with this.
The continuity of thought from line 4 through to line 5 is reflected in harmonic
and motivic connections: the piano repeats m. 11 in m. 13 before breaking off the
y motive. The singer also stays in the same range in mm. 10–16, focusing on D#5
with moves to B4 below and F#5 above. The setting of “wo du bleibst” (where you
stay) as an independent vocal gesture, repeated and extended in “dass ich bei dir
bliebe!” (that I may stay with you), seems especially apropos. Why? There is the
correspondence between the brevity of the verbal phrase, which consists of three
monosyllabic words, and the vocal gesture, so much shorter than everything that
we have heard thus far. Also, while the identical setting of “wo du bleibst” and “dass
ich bei” does not reflect a parallelism of words, it does indicate where the thought
is going: toward a common place where “you” and “I” (the poet and beloved) may
be together. The empty downbeat of m. 17 gives time for the change of harmony
and thought—the idea that there is no such place, for you (love) are like the wind
with no house.
Stepping back we may note two more generalities about the first strophe. The
declamation proceeds with sometimes one and sometimes two poetic feet per bar,
no faster or slower, and the vocal line has only a few syncopations. There are dotted
whole-note syncopations over the bar line for “Frühling” (line 1) and “bliebe”
(line 5). There is the syncopation with its hemiola implications for “all-ein-zi-ge”
(line 4) and a delayed beginning for “ihr” (line 6). Otherwise the vocal rhythm
aligns with the dotted-half and bar-line layers.
As we have seen in other places, Wolf uses the lower-level syncopations for
fine-tuned balancing of emphasis and pace. Thus, we get the unusual successive
accented syllables in “áll-éinzige” set with Wolf ’s syncopated rhythm in m. 11. The
word “éinzige” (only) carries a single emphasis on the first syllable, but there needs
to be an accent on “áll” to focus our attention on the fact that it is entirely the (one
and) only love, and for basic sense, so that we do not hear the nonsensical “alléin-
zige.” The sixth line could be read mundanely as “doch dú und die Lǘfte, ihr hábt
kein Háus”; with Wolf ’s syncopated emphasis on “ihr” (m. 20), the second clause
separates more fully from the first and receives the weight that is due to it.
The correlation of line rhythm and four-bar piano rhythm remains basically
the same in the second strophe. Thus, line 7 is set in the a section, once again in
bars 2–4 of the four-bar span (compare with line 1), lines 8–9 are set in the b sec-
tion (compare with lines 2–3), and line 10 is set in the climactic c section (compare
with line 4). The only change at this level is that there is a single d section instead
of two, and lines 11–12 fit easily within this section (compare with lines 5–6). It is
especially notable that Wolf allows “sehnend” and “sich dehnend” their full time,
placing them at the end of their respective two-bar spans (mm. 27–28 and 29–30).
The poetic expansion in lines 8–10, performing that which is described, is further
intensified in Wolf ’s setting: “in Lieben und Hoffen” fills out nearly all of the four
bars. The piano’s energetic form works well with this second stanza, as with the
first. The lines “sehnend” and “sich dehnend” intensify naturally as they lead into
“in Lieben und Hoffen,” and the questions of lines 11–12 correspond in tone with
that of line 5.
Wolf here illustrates two approaches to setting poetic lines of varying lengths.
In the first approach, each line occupies the same amount of time. The declamation
then must expand for shorter lines, as in the setting of “in Lieben und Hoffen,” or
the lines must be separated by more time, as in the setting of “sehnend and “sich
dehnend.” In the second approach, the rate of declamation remains the same, or at
least similar, and shorter lines get less time. Wolf uses this second approach for the
setting of lines 11–12, “Frühling, was bist du gewillt? / Wann werd’ ich gestillt?”
These two lines are shorter than the corresponding lines from stanza 1 (i.e., lines
5–6), and Wolf sets them together in a single four-bar span.
Changes in the placement of poetic lines in the final strophe are motivated by
new line lengths, syntax, and meaning. At the beginning of the strophe, Wolf sets
line 19 with a pickup to the third bar of the piano’s phrase (m. 74) rather than the
second, and the line continues through to the downbeat of the next section (m. 76).
The purely instrumental voice is thus stronger, and it seems to represent those
thoughts that the poet references but does not name: “Ich denke Diess und denke
Das” (I think of this and think of that).
The b section fits only a single line, since that line (20) is long and includes two
parts. To compensate, Wolf fits the fourth and fifth lines of the strophe (lines
22–23) into the d1 section. Line 23, however, overlaps well into the beginning of
the d2 section and continues directly on into line 24. This is a natural setting of the
poetic enjambment, but it is worth noting how different it is from the separation of
lines 5 and 6 in the first strophe. One might say that lines 23–24 no longer exist as
independent rhythmic units in Wolf ’s setting. In fact our attention is still drawn to
the rhymes of “Erinnerung” and “Dämmerung.” Wolf furthermore sets these words
in a parallel fashion, each time with a rising third, each time just after the beginning
of a new rhythmic span. The four-bar spans are themselves hidden; our attention
through this passage is drawn mainly to the individual measure, but the spans are
still there. Measure 88 is still marked by the arrival of a 6/4 harmony over F# with
D$ in place of D# (as in the first strophe), and m. 92 is still marked by the arrival of
the cadential 6/4 (as in the first strophe). Thus, rhyme and its vocal parallelism
subtly reinforce a four-bar periodicity that is itself just slightly more than a
phantom of previous temporal structures. It is, to blend music and text in our
interpretation, a memory (Erinnerung) woven in the twilight (Dämmerung) of
conscious perception.
We have yet to account for Wolf ’s setting of the final line and the B section,
setting lines 13–18. The final line is in its own musical space. It occupies four bars,
but these are marked “Sehr breit u. gedehnt” (very broad and expanded), and the
piano supports the voice in the manner of recitative, with chords but no further
temporal patterning. This rounds out the song rhetorically just as the line itself
does in Mörike’s poem.
The B section is another matter. Broad syncopations in the voice blur
temporal boundaries in the B sections as formal clarities dissolve in the poem,
the piano, and the poet’s conscious awareness. Let us recall first that this is the
part of the poem where the rhyme scheme works against the grouping of lines
by syntax. Thus (to review and elaborate), “es dringt der Sonne goldner Kuss”
(14) moves directly on in an enjambment to “mir tief bis in’s Geblüt hinein”
(15), with no pause for the rhyme with “Fluss” (13). Similarly, the rhyme of
“berauschet” (16) and “lauschet” (18) creates a link over the syntactical division
of lines 16–17 and 18. Line 13, the first in this section, already introduces an
off-kilter rhythm with its long initial clause and syntactically incomplete sec-
ond clause: “Die Wolke seh’ ich wandeln und den Fluss” (I see the cloud moving
and the stream). These poetic rhythms are unlike anything in the rest of the
poem; they set this section apart, and Wolf ’s vocal rhythms likewise set this sec-
tion apart.
There is a pattern that governs the setting of lines 13–16: lines begin with syn-
copations over the bar line and end on a downbeat. Lines 14 and 16 show this in
paradigmatic fashion; both are tetrameter lines with the declamatory schema [2 / -
2 / - 2 / 1]. Line 13 is a pentameter line; Wolf sets the initial trimeter clause with a
syncopation and downbeat arrival (“Die Wolke seh’ ich”; [2 / - 2 / 1 . . .) and the
final dimeter clause with an additional upbeat to downbeat pattern (“und den
Fluss”; . . . 2 / 1]). Line 15 compresses the declamation to one foot per dotted-half
beat, but Wolf syncopates “bis” over the bar line (m. 52), and the downbeat arrival
is once again at the end of the line.
This analysis demonstrates consistency in the setting, but we should clarify the
function of the analysis. It identifies a basic procedure that Wolf uses in a beauti-
fully flexible way. Similarly, we can say that the analysis defines the nature of the
material, which Wolf molds—in combination with the words and piano—into
forms that are anything but square. Thus, line 13 stretches across five bars, line 14
is set in four bars, and it moves directly through with the poetic enjambment to the
compressed setting of line 15. Line 16 is set with the same schema as line 14 but
“tun,” the first word of the next line, is tacked on at the end, followed by a long
silence and then “als schliefen sie ein.” The setting of line 18, “Nur noch das Ohr
dem Ton der Biene lauschet” is anomalous; it begins on a downbeat, and the final
accented syllable falls on beat 2. The unique downbeat beginning in fact empha-
sizes the word “nur” (only), which describes uniqueness.
The vocal rhythms in this strophe generally work with the grouping of the
right-hand chords, which we explored above, but there are also beautiful layerings
of motion between the voice and right hand. Thus, for instance, “Die Wolke seh’ ich
wan-(deln)” coincides with the piano’s initial descent, but the piano carries the
motion forward in quarters as the singer holds “wandeln.” The piano begins the
second of its four-bar groupings on the second beat of m. 47 while the singer sus-
tains “Fluss”; the singer then comes in with “es dringt” a bar later.
There is one more way to feel the shaping of material: in terms of a broadly
arching structural line. Circled pitches in the vocal line show a line that ascends
stepwise from A4 (m. 43) to C#5 (mm. 48–51) and then gradually descends, mostly
stepwise, to F#4 (m. 64). The “structural” nature of these pitches should be readily
apparent from the way they are sustained and repeated. Other similarly sustained
pitches may be heard as elaborations of this basic line. The F# of mm. 45–46, for
instance, may be heard as an arpeggiation within the harmony, D$ in mm. 49–50
as an upper neighbor, and E in m. 51 as an arpeggiation.43 Circled pitches in the

piano right hand in mm. 51–56 show a partially offset doubling of the structural
line, in the manner of Schumann.
Let us summarize and reflect on three main points of this analysis, by way of
conclusion: (1) The repeating strophes are organized in five four-bar spans (with
the second strophe compressed into four four-bar spans). One might be tempted
to say that these are recurrent spans, but material from span to span does not recur,
and so the spans themselves—which we hear in terms of the material that moves
through them—should likewise not be described as recurrent. Perhaps most
notable is the way our attention is made to focus on repetition and sequencing at
the two-bar level in sections b and c and then at the one-bar level in sections d1
and d2, even as these levels are further grouped into four-bar spans. (2) The singer
frequently begins on the second measure and concludes with the onset of a new
span. The singer in this sense responds to the piano as the poet responds to and
reflects on his feelings and situation; the singer thus becomes the poet, the piano
his or her inner being. This is most explicit at the beginning of the final strophe, as
the poet “hears” the piano, notices its thoughts (= his thoughts), and observes, “Ich
denke Diess und denke Das” (I think of this and think of that). The setting of “seh-
nend / sich dehnend / in Lieben und Hoffen” (lines 8–10) is notable in that it
moves toward a coincidence of piano and vocal periodicities—a coming together
of voice and inner being to express the fullness of “Lieben und Hoffen” (love and
hope). Vocal phrases overlap most extensively with those of the piano in the final
strophe as the poet queries his or her heart directly (lines 19–24). (3) Wolf matches
the blurring of formal clarities in lines 13–18 with analogous processes in the
musical domain: a breakdown of the four-bar periodicity, overlaps between the
contour-grouping of the right-hand chords and the spans marked by harmonic
changes, and a vocal line that uses more syncopation over the bar line. Systematic
aspects of the setting, the use of a [- 2 / - 2 / - 2 / 1 -] schema and its variants,
support a beautifully flexible setting. Interspersed silences in the vocal line are
those of a somnolent voice, the voice of the singer and poet as composed and
interpreted by Hugo Wolf.
43. This analysis is Schenkerian in that it seeks out broad linear connections and assumes a hierarchy
of consonance and dissonance. It does not assume a Schenkerian Urlinie, nor have I indicated how
the line relates to an actual or implied bass motion. The most extended application of Schenkerian
and modified Schenkerian methodologies to Wolf ’s songs is in Stein, Hugo Wolf ’s Lieder and
Extensions of Tonality.
Epilogue: Song Analysis and Musical Pleasure
John Ciardi concludes an analysis of Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a

Snowy Evening” with the following note to the reader:
You will observe one further point: that the human-insight of the poem, and the
technicalities of the poetic devices are inseparable. Each poem, and the technical-
ities of the poetic devices are inseparable. Each feeds the other. This interplay is the
poem’s meaning, a matter not of WHAT IT MEANS (nobody can say entirely what
a good poem means) but HOW IT MEANS—a process one can come much closer
to discussing.1
We may say the same about song, with its combination of poetry and music: the
technical and human elements are intertwined. One may also speak of the struc-
tural and expressive elements—which likewise are intertwined. All of this, as Ciardi
puts it, is a matter of “how it means.” It has been the goal of this book to explore the
interaction of structural and expressive means, and to do so specifically by consid-
ering the flow in musical time.
One may listen to a song casually: there is pleasure in the sound of the voice
and piano, the sound of the words, and the images that they evoke. One may also
perform a song casually: the notes are there to be sung and played, and one may do
so without much reflection. There is nothing wrong with such casual engagement,
but the inquisitive musician may notice things along the way. There is a lovely
moment here, a striking image there, a lyrical phrase after the more speechlike
declamation, and so on. The inquisitive musician may also reflect on the things he
or she notices, and notice how his or her perceptions interact. With repeated
engagement, the musician begins not only to enjoy the song but also to understand
it. Pleasure grows with this understanding, and the performance takes shape and
conviction. This—in a nutshell—is what song analysis is about.
1. John Ciardi, How Does a Poem Mean, Vol. 3 of An Introduction to Literature, ed. Gordon N. Ray
(Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1959), 676.
207
Klaus Groth, a poet and friend of Brahms’s, described precisely this kind of
reflective, analytical engagement. He wrote:
I have to hear a musical work first many times, and also repeatedly try it out for
myself with my own fingers, let it sound bit by bit inwardly, before I can enjoy it,
I mean enjoy it in the same way as when I drink wine, of which I still know whether
I like it when it has already penetrated through my stomach into my heart’s
blood.2
Groth here was talking specifically about song, and he goes on to observe that
it is more difficult to understand a song than a larger work. Whether this is so
may be up for debate, but in song there is a distinct compression of expressive
means; it all happens quickly, and there is the combination of poetry and
music.
Our modus operandi has been not only to listen to the song, but to study the
poems and consider “how they mean,” as Ciardi puts it, and then to consider how
these expressive means are augmented and transformed in song. There are nine-
teenth-century precedents for this as well. Brahms wrote to Clara Schumann (as
noted in chap. 6), “Have [the songs of Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin] sung to
you . . . but—do not forget to read the poems carefully first, to be able to experience
the whole.”3 Josef von Spaun commented on how every one of Schubert’s songs
was “in reality a poem on the poem he set to music” (as noted in chap. 1). A full
understanding of the song would thus, by necessity, require a prior understanding
of the poem.
Let us return to our inquisitive musician, say it is Klaus Groth, or Josef von
Spaun, or Theodor Adorno, who once said that music analysis is the act of get-
ting to know a work intimately.4 Perhaps it is Kofi Agawu, who comments on
the sensuous pleasure of music analysis and provides a wealth of models for
analyzing music of the Romantic period.5 Perhaps it is John Ciardi, who listens
to poetry with a musical ear. Perhaps it is you or me. The things a musician
notices will depend in part on the things he or she has noticed before. The musi-
cian may notice particular harmonies, following training in basic harmonic
analysis; form, following an understanding of the varieties of strophic,
through-composed, and other forms in song; persona and voice, following a
study of Cone’s theory and its subsequent developments; or large-scale voice-
leading structures, following a training in Schenkerian analysis. The goal of this
book has been to introduce (or reintroduce, as the case may be) a mode of
2. Dieter Lohmeier, ed., Johannes Brahms—Klaus Groth: Briefe der Freundschaft (Heide in Holstein:
Verlag Boyens and Co., 1997), 79, as translated in Peter Russell, Johannes Brahms and Klaus Groth:
The Biography of a Friendship (Aldershot, England: Ashgate, 2006), 81.
3. Quoted in Ludwig Finscher, “Brahms’s Early Songs: Poetry versus Music,” in Brahms Studies:
Analytical and Historical Perspectives, ed. George S. Bozarth (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990), 332.
4. Theodor W. Adorno, “On the Problem of Musical Analysis,” Music Analysis 1, no. 2 (1982), 171.
5. Kofi Agawu, “How We Got Out of Analysis, and How to Get Back In Again,” Music Analysis 23,
no. 2–3 (2004), 274–75; Music as Discourse: Semiotic Adventures in Romantic Music (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2009).
attending that focuses on rhythm and meter, or the “polyrhythm” of speech,

singing, and playing, as Nägeli put it. “A small Lied can yet be a combinatorial
artwork at a fairly high level,” Nägeli observed in 1817, and its polyrhythm of
speech, singing, and playing is “overall as important as” the polyphony of double
counterpoint.6
I conclude with a final example, in which graphic art combines with music to
set a song in motion. Example 8.1 reproduces a score for the end of Brahms’s song
“Alte Liebe” (Old Love), Op. 72 No. 1. Birds fly out from a descending arpeggio in
the piano part to the tower of a walled city in the distance. A couple can be made
out below walking on a path between the foliage and city wall. The song itself
seems to fly with the birds into the distance, taking the poetic persona to the
memory of an “old love.”
Example 8.1: Score and Image from Max Klinger, Brahms Fantasy, p. 5
Reproduced by permission of the Davison Art Center, Wesleyan University.
Photograph by John Wareham.
The score and lithograph are from the Brahms Fantasy, a work by the German
sculptor, painter, and graphic artist Max Klinger (1857–1920). Klinger was also a
pianist and a devoted follower of Brahms. He had produced title-page images for
6. See the quote and discussion in chap. 1.

Brahms’s opp. 96 and 97 collections, published by Simrock in 1886, and he com-

pleted the Brahms Fantasy in 1894.7
Klinger’s image might be taken as kitsch and Romantic indulgence; it is in fact
both of these things. It also works, however, in more subtle and powerful ways.
Klinger clearly knew what he was doing, in choosing this particular moment for
the birds’ departure, and in arranging the score so that the birds could fly out from
this measure. The final stanza reads as follows:
Es ruft mir aus der Ferne, There is a call to me from the distance,
Ein Auge sieht mich an, An eye gazes at me,
Ein alter Traum erfaßt mich An old dream takes hold of me
Und führt mich seine Bahn. And leads me on its path.
The casual listener or performer may notice that the birds take off with this
final line, “Und führt mich seine Bahn” (And leads me on its path); in this way
the birds link up with the dream and its journey of nostalgia. The casual lis-
tener or performer may also notice that the declamation spreads out at this
moment from a [1, 2 / 1 -] schema, which has been the norm up to this point,
to one poetic foot per measure. The listener or performer may then notice
more things and become more engaged: the way the piano arpeggios with
“führt mich seine” match the voice, extending it down and back over two
octaves, the way the left-hand arpeggios in eighths rise up to meet and give
further impulse to the slower right-hand and voice arpeggios on “seine, seine,”
the warmth of the Neapolitan harmony on “führt mich,” leading via a cadential
6/4 to the perfect authentic cadence on “Bahn,” and the way the piano postlude
elides with this cadence. The listener or performer may consider how this
moment is set up in the song as a whole, and thereby notice things about text
repetition and the movement to melodic high points, about conflicts between
6/4 and 12/8 groupings, about motivic memories, and about rhythmic com-
pression and the buildup of intensity in the poem itself—leading to this final
moment of reflexive self-awareness.8
In this particular case, there is reason to imagine Brahms himself in the role of
listener/performer. Brahms wrote to Klinger, “Perhaps it has not occurred to you to
imagine what I must feel when looking at your images. I see the music, together
with the nice words—and then your splendid engravings carry me away unawares.”9
7. Klinger’s Brahms Fantasy features five songs by Brahms in dialogue with graphic images, a set of
images on the Prometheus story, and the score for Brahms’s Schicksalslied, also in dialogue with
graphic images. A digital version of the complete work with an introductory essay, high-resolution
images and zoom capability, texts and translations, recordings of the songs, and references can be
found at http://www.wesleyan.edu/dac/view/brahmsphantasie.
8. Paul Berry has recently discovered that the principal motive of this song recalls another work, given
privately to Brahms’s own “Alte Liebe.” See Paul Berry, “Old Love: Johannes Brahms, Clara Schumann,
and the Poetics of Musical Memory,” Journal of Musicology 24, no. 1 (2007): 72–111.
9. Johannes Brahms an Max Klinger (Leipzig: Klinger-Haus, 1924), 7, translated in Walter Frisch,
German Modernism: Music and the Arts (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 96.
Even more to the point, Brahms wrote to Clara Schumann about Klinger’s book
and suggested that he should be there to interpret it for her:
I have just had a most pleasant surprise in a Brahms Fantasy by the painter Max
Klinger, and I wish you could have shared the pleasure with me. . . . Let me know
whether you will be able to get the book. . . . I hardly like to give it to you, because
I am too much afraid that you will not get the full measure of enjoyment out of it.
But I could certainly bring it to you, because then I could be your interpreter and
share the pleasure it would give you.10
To be interpreters and share the pleasure—we don’t have Brahms for this, but we
may do it on our own to the best of our abilities. We may listen and perform, gain
both understanding and pleasure, and set the songs in motion.
10. Berthold Litzmann, ed., Letters of Clara Schumann and Johannes Brahms (London: Edward Arnold
and Co., 1927), 2:245, quoted in Inge Van Rij, Brahms’s Song Collections (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2006), 210.
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Index
accents, musical, 10–11, 41 “Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer,”

agogic, 21, 41, 60, 136, 190 Op. 105 No. 2, 52
dynamic, 41, 104, 190 “In der Fremde,” Op. 3 No. 5, 7–8, 141, 146,
metrical, 10, 11, 189–90, 191 147–51, 152, 154
registral, 10, 21, 41, 60, 83, 102, 104, 190 letters to Clara Schumann, 153, 165, 178,
Adorno, Theodor W., 91, 97, 108, 208 208, 211
Agawu, Kofi, 208 letter to Max Klinger, 210
alienation, 10, 12, 133 “Liebestreu,” Op. 3 No. 1, 12–13, 146,
alliteration, 83, 201 154–58
asclepiadic odes, 146, 158, 159–69 in a late period, 145, 152–53
assonance, 83, 201 Lieder und Gesänge, Op. 57, 171
Asti, Eugene, 45 Magelone Lieder, Op. 33, 153, 171
Auger, Arleen, 200n42 and musical performance of poetic
reading, 146, 147, 150–52, 154
Bach, Johann Sebastian, 33 and poetic reading, 151, 152, 178, 208
Bahr, Hermann, 177 and rhythmic articulation of poetic forms,
Barthes, Roland, 123 149, 150–52, 154
beat. See tactus and Schubert, 152, 163–64
Beethoven, Ludwig van, 122 and Schumann, 141, 145, 147–50, 152, 154
An die ferne Gelibte, Op. 98, 48–49 song collections of, 145–46
Symphony No. 3, Op. 55 (Eroica), 52 “Von ewiger Liebe,” Op. 43 No. 1, 15,
Berlioz, Hector, 82 151–52
Biedermeier period, 114 walking, 169–71, 178
Brahms, Johannes, 145–76 “Wenn du nur zuweilen lächelst,” Op. 57
“Alte Liebe,” Op. 72 No. 1, 209–10 No. 2, 146–47, 171–76
“An den Mond,” Op. 71 No. 2, 22–23 and Wolf, 13, 70, 142, 153–54, 176, 178
and compositional process, 151, 169–70 See also declamation, song forms,
“Dämmrung senkte sich von oben,” Op. 59 syncopation, and tempo
No. 1, 55–56 Brinkmann, Reinhold, 124
“Das Lied vom Herrn von Falkenstein,” Brower, Candace, 46–47
Op. 43 No. 4, 170 Burkholder, Peter, 145
“Das Mädchen spricht,” Op. 107 No. 3,
58–61, 62, 152 cadences. See phrase rhythm
“Der Kuß,” Op. 19 No. 1, 146, 158, 159, caesura, 5, 9, 12–13, 116, 126, 127, 139, 142,
164–69, 171 147, 155, 159, 164, 166, 181, 191
“Die Mainacht,” Op. 43 No. 2, 146, 158–63, chiastic structures, 79, 159, 160
167–68, 170, 171 chromatic third relations, 181–82, 186
and folksong, 150, 158, 165, 171, 176 chromatic voice leading, 157, 200–01
Four Serious Songs, Op. 121, 147 Ciardi, John, 207, 208
and Hensel, 93 climax. See highpoints
223
224 Index
Cohn, Richard, 51–52, 62–64 and radical use of language, 84, 125
Cone, Edward T., 31–32, 208 and romanticism, 125
cross-domain mapping, 38, 62, 66 “Waldesgespräch,” 138
elision. See phrase rhythm
Daumer, Georg Friedrich, 171 enjambment, 12, 126, 133–34, 139, 147, 164,
“Wenn du nur zuweilen lächelst,” 146, 172, 204
171–72 musical settings of, 135, 139, 140, 141, 148,
Daverio, John, 137 149–51, 165, 203
declamation, 13–15, 95, 207 entrainment. See meter, musical
in Brahms, 15, 70, 153–54 Epstein, David, 154
in Wolf, 153–54, 176, 178, 179–80, 182–83,
190–91, 202–03 Fehn, Ann Clark, 15, 25–26, 192
declamatory rhythm, 92, 105, 118 Finson, Jon, 141, 142
augmentation of, 47–48, 75, 76–77, 134–35, folksong
157, 176, 203, 210 “Da droben auf jenem Berge,” 108–09
irregular, 104, 110–13, 128–29, 138, 143, See also Brahms
171, 180 form. See song forms
regular, 128, 130, 134 Frost, Robert, 207
and settings of unaccented line endings, 8,
17, 19–20, 102, 103, 130 Gage, Irwin, 200n42
declamatory lyricism, 187 Geibel, Emanuel, 178
declamatory schemas, 15–27, 44 “Gondellied,” 10, 72, 87–88
cadential, 25, 84, 129 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 17, 70, 72, 81,
changing, 19–20, 21–23, 83, 102–03, 107, 91, 178
128–29, 143, 180, 187–88, 189–90, 204 and authentic utterance, 113
in compound meters, 17–18, 19 “An Lina,” 4, 126, 152
in couplet pairings, 20–21, 24–25, 51 “Ganymed,” 5, 180–81, 196
in hypermeasures, 18, 19, 143 “Gretchen am Spinnrade,” 8–9, 114–17, 122
pentameter, 25–27, 188–94 “Schäfers Klagelied,” 108–10
tetrameter, 20–25, 48–51, 83, 85, 102, 103, Schubert’s settings of, 95–96, 98
107, 128–29, 140, 172 Schubert’s settings of, discussed by Brahms,
for tetrameter-trimeter couplets, 19, 25, 152
134, 156 and song aesthetics, 31, 113
three-bar, 20, 21–24 “Wanderlied,” 76
trimeter, 17–20, 24–25, 50, 58, 73, 76, 92, 99, “Wandrers Nachtlied I,” 105
106, 109, 110, 126, 130, 160–62, 163, 210 “Wandrers Nachtlied II,” 172
in triple meters, 24–25 Gritton, Susan, 45
upbeat oriented, 20, 21–22, 23–24, 50, 83, Groth, Klaus, 208
85, 92, 163, 175 Gruppe, Otto Friedrich
used for the analysis of piano rhythms, 92, “Das Mädchen spricht,” 58–60
200
declamatory style, 105n20, 128, 142, 146–47, 183 Hallmark, Rufus, 15, 25–26, 128, 129, 192
dissonance, metric. See metric dissonance Hanslick, Eduard, 153
harmonic rhythm, 41, 85, 118, 143, 162,
Eichendorff, Joseph Freiherr von, 17, 72, 181–82, 186
81–82, 91, 125–26, 178 Hauptmann, Moritz, 66
“Der Schalk,” 82–83 Haydn, Joseph, 30
“Die Stille,” 139–40 Heine, Heinrich, 17, 42, 125–26
“In der Fremde,” 7–8, 11–12, 133–34, “Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen,” 10, 130
147–48 “Ich grolle nicht,” 9
“Morgenständchen,” 84–85, 87 “Im wunderschönen Monat Mai,” 196
“Nachtwanderer,” 90–91 and irony, 125
poetic forms of, 125 Lyrisches Intermezzo, 127
Index 225
Müller as model for, 98, 125 perception of, 44–47

poetic rhythms and forms of, 125, 130 and phrase rhythm, 44, 47–48
“Schwanenlied,” 42, 73 reinterpretation of, 48, 77, 78, 79–80, 84,
“Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass,” 100, 119–20, 144, 151–52, 187
5–6, 78–79 See also declamatory schemas
“Wenn ich in deine Augen seh’,” 127–28, 130
hemiola, 26, 52, 53–56, 58–61, 62–64, 83, idyllic temporality, 104
102–04, 199 interiority, 18, 86–87 (see also Schumann,
in Brahms, 146, 158, 159, 162, 167–68, Robert)
173–75, 210 irony, 107 (see also Schumann, Robert and
reverse, 22–23, 55, 57–58, 63, 160 Heine, Heinrich)
Henschel, George, 169–70
Hensel, Fanny, 69–93 James, William, 46
and Brahms, 70, 93 Jenner, Gustav, 146, 151, 164, 169, 170
“Die Mainacht,” Op. 9 No. 6, 164n49 Joachim, Josef, 155
“Die Schwalbe,” 50–51, 71
and gender related career constraints, Kalbeck, Max, 170
70–72 Klinger, Max, 209–10
and history of the Lied, 69, 93, 96 Brahms Fantasy, 209–11
“Gondellied,” Op. 1 No. 6, 10, 14, 66, 87–89 Klopstock, Friedrich Gottlieb, 158
“Maienlied,” Op. 1 No. 4, 81–84 Krebs, Harald, 49, 51–53, 62, 65, 184
“Morgenständchen,” Op. 1 No. 5, 21–22, 23,
84–87 lament, 73, 106–07, 109–13, 131
musical training of, 70 Lenau, Nikolaus, 17
“Nachtwanderer,” Op. 7 No. 1, 65, “Einsamkeit,” 142–43
89–93 Lewin, David, 31
Opp. 1 and 7 songs, 17, 19, 25, 72 Lied
and Schubert, 96 canonization, 145, 152, 178
and Schumann, 81, 82, 90, 125 dramatic, 154–55
“Schwanenlied,” Op. 1 No. 1, 14, 37–46, 47, history and aesthetics, 4, 29–31, 32–33,
73–75 69–70, 93, 95–96, 125, 141–42, 144, 176,
song publications of, 71–72, 89–90, 91 178–79
and Sunday musicales, 70–71 private performance of, 90
travel to Italy, 82 public performance of, 90, 142, 145, 153,
use of 6/8 meters, 69, 72, 87 178
“Wanderlied,” Op. 1 No. 2, 24, 48, linear motion, 119, 121, 136–37, 156, 198, 204
75–77 longing. See rhythmic representations
“Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass,” Louis, Rudolf, 179
Op. 1 No. 3, 14, 16, 48, 77–81
Hensel, Wilhelm, 70–71, 82 Mahlert, Ulrich, 141, 142
Heyse, Paul, 178 melodic contour. See highpoints
“Auch kleine Dinge,” 188 memory
“Der Mond hat eine schwere Klag’ as evident in musical structure, 143–44
erhoben,” 189–91 of poetic personae, 99, 101, 132, 209
highpoints, 75, 136–37, 156–57, 173, 186, 190, psychological studies of, 46
198, 204 Mendelssohn, Abraham, 70, 87
Hoeckner, Berthold, 32 Mendelssohn, Cécile, 89–90
Hölty, Ludwig Heinrich Christoph, 158–59 Mendelssohn, Fanny. See Hensel, Fanny
“Der Kuß,” 146, 158, 164–65 Mendelssohn, Felix, 70–71, 90
“Die Mainacht,” 146, 158, 159–60 Mendelssohn, Rebecka, 89–90
hypermeter, 18, 41–48, 60–61, 114, 118, 121, meter, musical, 35–66
138, 143–44 compared with poetic meter, 4, 9, 38
numeric annotation for, 43–44 dot diagrams for, 37–38, 42, 46, 65
226 Index
meter, musical, (continued) Nägeli, Hans Georg, and “polyrhythm” in the

and drama, 169 Lied, 29–33, 38–39, 75, 99, 114, 131, 141,
entrainment to, 39, 44–47, 65 180, 209
and expressive variation, 35–36 narrative frame, 111
graphs of, 62–64, 167, 168, 173–75 New German School, 176
as hierarchy, 38, 39 Newman, Ernest, 178–79
and irregularity, 92 normalization of poetic irregularities. See
layers of, 37–46, 63 (see also metric phrase rhythm
dissonance)
modulation of, 56, 60–61 offset doublings. See piano and voice
perception of, 39–43, 44–47, 57, 185, 198
and perceptual isochrony, 38 parallelisms, musical, 39, 43, 129, 144, 154,
and psychological states, 174–75, 176 162, 174, 185, 195, 201–02
reductions of, 46–47, 80–81 parallelisms, text, 28–29, 119
in relation to rhythm, 36, 64–66 parodies, 4, 108–09
and shadow meter, 48–51, 52, 77 pastoral, 110–13
theory and pedagogy of, 35n1, 36–37 performance, 35–36, 37, 45, 47, 61,
waves of, 65–66, 134, 136, 137, 193 70–71, 90, 142, 145, 150, 152–53, 154, 159,
in Western notation, 35–37, 61 170, 175, 177–78, 200n42, 207–08, 211
See also accent, hypermeter, metric perception. See meter, musical
dissonance, and tactus persona, 31–32, 78, 85, 169, 170 (see also piano;
meter, poetic. See poetic meter poetic rhythm; and rhythm, musical)
metric dissonance, 51–64, 156 phrase rhythm, 70
direct, 56 acceleration of, 118–20
displacement, 52–54, 57–61, 130–32, 156, and cadences, 47–48
184, 193 elision, 47–48, 70, 78, 79–80, 93, 100, 144,
as a form of dissonance, 51–52, 131 152, 187
grouping, 52, 53–56 expansion of, 74, 75, 77, 93
indirect, 56 extension of, 135
as a metric phenomenon, 51–52 five-bar, 165–67
subliminal, 56, 61 four-bar (quadratic), 126, 142, 169, 188,
See also hemiola and syncopation 194–95, 198–99, 203, 205
motives, 19, 153, 154, 156, 157, 173, 175–76, and hypermeter, 44, 47–48
199, 200, 202, 210 irregular, 90, 91–92, 133, 142–44, 146
Mörike, 178 and normalization of poetic irregularity,
“Im Frühling,” 195–97 88–89, 134–35, 139, 163–64, 187–88
and introspection, 196 regular, 126, 137, 137
“Um Mitternacht,” 7, 12 in relation to poetic form, 3, 11, 29, 51, 74,
movement, human. See rhythmic 75, 77, 85, 92–93, 99, 103, 109, 121–22,
representations 130, 134–36
movement in nature. See rhythmic piano
representations as heard by the vocal persona, 92, 130, 131, 140
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, 30 introductions, 79, 101–02, 136, 148
Müller, Wilhelm, 17, 98 and the lyric persona’s consciousness,
and analytical introspection, 100 98–100, 119, 203, 205
“Auf dem Flusse,” 99 postludes, 131, 136, 176, 210
“Der Lindenbaum,” 10–11, 28–29 symphonically conceived, 178
“Die Nebensonnen,” 106–07 textures, 3, 37–38, 66, 80, 85, 131
“Gute Nacht,” 10 piano and voice
and rhythmic simplicity, 98 doublings, 107, 165
“Rückblick,” 100–01 interdependence, 90, 124
“Wasserflut,” 6, 8 offset doublings, 124, 126, 130–31, 133,
music-text blends, 74, 104, 111, 182, 203 134–35, 137, 162, 205
Index 227
reverberation in Schumann, 123–24, 126, See also caesura, enjambment, poetic form
130, 132, 137 polyphony, analogy with polyrhythm, 32–33
rhythmic independence of, 99 polyrhythm. See Nägeli, Hans Georg
rhythmic interactions of, 85, 102–03, 128, punctuation, musical analogue for, 87
143, 179–80, 186, 188, 189, 192–93, 195, psychological present, 46
201, 204 psychological states. See rhythmic
poetic form representations
dissolution of, 197, 199–200, 205
quatrains, 3, 28–29 recitative, 65, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 203
See also asclepiadic odes; Eichendorff, Reinick, Robert
Joseph Freiherr von; and Heine, “Liebestreu,” 12–13, 155–56
Heinrich repetition, musical, 28–29, 74–75, 156 (see also
poetic meter, 3–9 Schubert, Franz)
alternating patterns of tetrameter and repetition of poetic text, 9, 25, 47–48, 75,
trimeter lines, 5–6, 79, 133, 147, 155 76–77, 84, 87, 118, 135, 149, 166
ambiguity of, with monosyllabic words, 10 rhyme, 3, 5, 82, 90, 105, 134, 139–40, 166, 171,
amphibrachs, 7, 14 172, 190, 197, 204
anapestic, 6, 7, 14 in aabb quatrains, 3, 127
choriambs, 159 in abab quatrains, 5–6, 12, 28, 73, 79, 82, 84,
dactylic, 7, 14–15, 159, 160 100, 125, 133, 147
dimeter lines, 8–9, 116, 196 in abba quatrains, 142
disyllabic feet, 7–8, 109 in abcb quatrains, 108–09, 125
compared with musical meter, 4, 9, 38 rhythmic irregularity
hexameter lines, 9, 159, 160 in Schubert, 97, 100, 105n20, 118
iambic, 6, 7, 14, 16, 28, 42, 59, 73, 90, 100, in Schumann, 124–25, 137–40
127, 130, 159, 188, 190, 201 performative effects of, 137–40
line endings, 8, 28, 42, 73, 90, 100, 108, 125, See also declamatory rhythm and phrase
127, 130, 171 rhythm
pentameter lines, 7, 9, 15, 188–94, 196 . rhythmic representations
and phrase rhythm, 3 of desire, 117, 121, 171, 172, 176, 186
and qualities of motion, 6–7, 42 of human movement, 83, 95, 100, 101–04,
tetrameter lines, 7, 16, 56, 84, 90, 100, 105, 110–11, 117, 119
125, 127, 139, 142, 151, 159, 171, 196 . of longing, 52, 133
trimeter lines, 16, 28, 42, 73, 90, 108, 125, of movement in nature, 52, 57, 61, 66, 74,
130, 159, 196, 201 85, 87, 95, 98, 103
trisyllabic feet, 7–8, 14–15, 109 of psychological states, 52, 118
trochaic, 6, 14, 18, 56, 59, 84, 105, 142, 159, of stasis, 98–99, 104, 107, 118
160, 171 rhythm, musical, 4, 35–36
See also declamatory schemas and analog equivalence, 15
poetic reading, 4 (see also Brahms, Johannes analogies with pitch, 61
and Wolf, Hugo) augmentation, 158
poetic rhythm, 9–13 as dramatic element, 154–55, 157
and couplets, 3, 5–6, 8, 116, 127, 133 as a feature of the lyric persona’s voice, 81,
(see also declamatory schemas) 92, 98, 121, 157, 186
and degrees of accentuation, 10–11, 21, 48, and poetic feet, 14–15
83, 103, 129 in relation to meter, 36, 64–66
expressive aspects of, 12–13, 59–60, 79, 90 in Western notation, 35–37
free, 5, 181, 196 See also accents, musical; declamatory
irregular, 137, 138 rhythm; harmonic rhythm; rhythmic
and the poetic persona’s voice, 12–13, 59–60, irregularity; rhythmic representations;
81, 102, 114, 116–17, 154–56, 172, 197 and syncopation
trochaic substitution, 9–10, 42, 43, 102, rhythm, poetic. See poetic rhythm
130, 191 Riemann, Hugo, 154
228 Index
Robert, Friederike “Wasserflut,” D. 911 No. 6, 20–21, 51, 172

“Die Schwalbe,” 50 pentameter settings of, 25–27, 188, 192
Rohr, Deborah, 146 Winterreise, D. 911, 17, 19, 24–25
Rothstein, William, 48–51 and Wolf, 96, 187–88, 192
Rückert, Friedrich, 17 See also rhythmic irregularity
Schumann, Clara
Schenker, Heinrich, 33, 205n43, 208 and Hensel, 82
Schoenberg, Arnold, 146, 152, 176 letters from Brahms to, 153, 165, 178, 208, 211
Schubert, Franz, 95–122 poems for composition collected with
“An den Schlaf,” D. 447, 26 Robert, 126
“Auf dem Flusse,” D. 911 No. 7, 31, 97, 98–100 Schumann, Robert, 123–44
and Brahms, 152, 163–64 “Auf einer Burg,” Op. 39 No. 7, 14
canonization of, 178 “Aus alten Märchen,” Op. 48 No. 15, 19
“Das Wirtshaus,” D. 911 No. 21, 17–18 “Aus meinen Tränen spriessen,” Op. 48 No. 2,
“Der Leiermann,” D. 911 No. 24, 18, 19 127
“Der Lindenbaum,” D. 911 No. 5, 10–11, 17, and Brahms, 141, 145, 147–48, 152, 154
29, 57–59, 60, 63–64, 65 canonization of, 178
“Die Erwartung,” D. 159, 104 composition drafts, 128, 129, 133
“Die Mainacht,” D. 194, 163–64 contact with Hensel, 82
“Die Nebensonnen,” D. 911 No. 23, 21, 51, Dichterliebe, Op. 48, 17, 19, 25, 124, 125–26,
97, 104–05, 106–08 127, 153
“Die Post,” D. 911 No. 13, 21–22, 31 “Die Rose, Die Lilie,” Op. 48 No. 3, 14, 127
Die schöne Müllerin, D. 795, 153 “Die Stille,” Op. 39 No. 4, 126–27, 137–38,
“Erlkönig” D. 328, 95–96 139–40
“Erstarrung,” D. 911 No. 4, 19–20 Eichendorff Liederkreis, Op. 39, 81–82, 124,
“Ganymed,” D. 544, 180, 187–88 125–26
“Gretchen am Spinnrade,” D. 118, 8–9, “Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen,” Op. 48
30–31, 95–96, 97–98, 113–14, 117–22, 155 No. 11, 123
“Gute Nacht,” D. 911 No. 1, 10, 17 “Einsamkeit,” Op. 90 No. 5, 127, 142–44
and Hensel, 96 Fantasy, Op. 17, 49
and history of the Lied, 95–96 on free rhythm, 195
“Im Dorfe,” D. 911 No. 17, 24–25 and Hensel, 81, 90, 125
“Irrlicht,” D. 911 No. 9, 21 “Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen,” Op. 48 No.
“Kennst du das Land,” Op. 79 No. 28, 142 10, 53–54, 126, 129–32, 134
“Letzte Hoffnung,” D. 911 No. 16, 21 “Ich grolle nicht,” Op. 48 No. 7, 9
“Mut,” D. 911 No. 22, 107 “Ich will meine Seele tauchen,” Op. 48 No. 5,
“Pause,” D. 795 No. 12, 26–27 127
and realism, 96 “Im Rhein,” Op. 48 No. 6, 14, 127
and reflective consciousness, 97, 99–100, “Im wunderschönen Monat Mai,” Op. 48
104, 105, 110, 122, 123 No. 1, 53–54, 124
and repetition, 97, 98–99, 107, 108, 119, 122 “In der Fremde,” Op. 39 No. 1, 7–8, 126,
representation and expression combined 132–37, 148
in, 95, 111 and interiority, 123–24, 126, 128, 139
“Rückblick,” D. 911 No. 8, 97, 100–04, 107 “Intermezzo,” Op. 39 No. 2, 52, 123
“Schäfers Klagelied,” D. 121, 97, 105, 110–13 and irony, 123
and Schumann, 123 late songs of, 124–25, 127, 141–44
“Suleika I,” D. 720, 95–96, 97 Liederkreis, Op. 24, 125
“Täuschung,” D. 911 No. 19, 21–23 “Melancholie,” Op. 74 No. 6, 142
“Ungeduld,” D. 795 No. 7, 26–27, 55 and offset doublings, 124, 126, 130–31, 133,
“Wandrers Nachtlied I,” D. 224, 65, 97, 134–35, 137, 162, 205
104–06 and poems for composition collected with
“Wandrers Nachtlied II,” D. 768, 52, 105n20 Clara, 126
Index 229
and Schubert, 123 and rhythmic transformations in Brahms,

Symphony No. 2, Op. 61, 49 146, 154, 157–58
view of Lied history, 125 Thym, Jürgen, 126
and Wagner, 141
“Waldesgespräch,” Op. 39 No. 3, 126–27, voice and piano. See piano and voice
137–39, 166 voices, poetic and musical. See persona; piano;
“Wenn ich in deine Augen seh,’” Op. 48 No. 4, poetic rhythm; and rhythm, musical
126, 127–29, 132, 133 Volkstümlichkeit, 11, 30–31, 32, 69, 84, 95, 96,
year of song, 124 109, 125, 150, 155, 165
“Zwielicht,” Op. 39 No. 10, 124
See also piano and voice, and rhythmic Wagner, Richard, 141, 178, 179
irregularity Wolf, Hugo, 177–205
sequence, 119, 120, 131 “Auch kleine Dinge,” Italian Songbook No. 1,
song forms, 110 188, 191, 192–93, 194
cyclic, 80–81 and Brahms, 13, 70, 176, 178
directional, 80–81 “Dass doch gemalt all’ deine Reize wären,”
and energetic profiles, 197–201, 202–03 Italian Songbook No. 9, 26–27
modified strophic in Brahms, 148, 156, 165 “Denk’es, O Seele!,” Mörike songs No. 39,
and phrase expansions, 75, 77 192n32
strophic, 81, 163, 171, 198, 199 “Der Mond hat eine schwere Klag’ erhoben,”
ternary, 86, 101, 107, 160, 165, 186 Italian Songbook No. 7, 189–91
song, poetic depictions of, 48, 85, 91, 129 and four-bar piano phrasing, 188, 194–95,
song rhythms, contrasted with speech 198–99, 203, 205
rhythms, 104, 127, 128, 138–39, 141 “Ganymed,” Goethe songs No. 50, 180–88,
Spaun, Josef von, 31, 208 201
speech rhythms, 38–39, 100, 104–05, 110–13, and history of the Lied, 142, 146, 176, 178
127, 138–39, 141, 177, 179–80 “Im Frühling,” Mörike songs No. 13, 180,
Spillman, Robert, 160–62 194–95, 197–205
stasis. See rhythmic representations Italian Songbook, 178, 180, 188–94
Stein, Deborah J., 160–62 “Jägerlied,” Mörike songs No. 4, 192n32
Stein, Jack, 158n34 “Mir ward gesagt,” Italian Songbook No. 2, 194
Stockhausen, Julius, 153, 159 Mörike songs, 179
syncopation, 22–23, 46, 52, 53–54, 74, 79, “Nun lass uns Frieden schliessen,” Italian
80–81, 193, 198 Songbook No. 8, 191
and agency, 180, 185 pentameter settings of, 26–27, 188–94
in Brahms, 146, 149, 150, 154 and poetic reading, 177–78
definition and theory of, 183–84 and Schubert, 96, 187–88, 192
internally articulated, 184, 187 “Selig ihr Blinden,” Italian Songbook No. 5,
resolution of, 184–85 192
and rhythmic narrative, 185, 186–87 Spanish Songbook, 178
in Schumann’s piano accompaniments, “Um Mitternacht,” Mörike songs No. 19, 7, 14
53–54, 126, 132, 135 and union of poetry and music, 178–79
for unaccented line endings, 19–20, 130 and Wagner, 178, 179
in Wolf ’s vocal lines, 27, 52, 179–80, See also declamation and syncopation
182–87, 188, 192, 194, 202, 203–04, 205
syntax yearning, poetic and musical representations
musical, 120, 121–22 of, 116, 137, 171, 180, 199 .
verbal, 11, 13, 89, 114, 116–17, 119, 121–22, Youens, Susan, 52, 57, 100, 179
133, 147, 172, 174, 181, 190, 204
Zelter, Carl Friedrich, 31, 70, 87, 96
tactus, 44–46 Zuckerkandl, Victor, 65–66
tempo, 43, 44–45, 72, 117, 163, 182, 195 Zumsteeg, Johann Rudolf, 104

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Songs in Motion

OXFORD STUDIES IN MUSIC THEORY

Studies in Music with Text , David Lewin

Rhythm and Meter in the German Lied

Oxford New York

Copyright © 2010 by Oxford University Press, Inc.

Published by Oxford University Press, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Musical examples (marked in text with ) are available online at www.oup.com/us/songsinmotion

Publication of this book was supported by the John Daviero

5. Deutsche Harmonia Mundi 77085–2–RG.

An Outline of the Book

Poetic Texts and Translations

About the Musical Examples and Companion Web Site xix

Rhythm and Meter in the German Lied 1

1. “IMSLP / Petrucci Music Library,” http://imslp.org/wiki/Main_Page (accessed October 28, 2008).

Rhythm and Meter in the

The nineteenth-century Lied has a number of characteristic rhythmic features. The

Poetic Meter and Rhythm

Meter in accentual-syllabic poetry is deﬁned by two things: (1) the patterning of

regular or irregular.5 “Free rhythm” in German poetry uses variable numbers of

Wíe im Mórgenglánze As in the morning brilliance

Mánche Trä́n’ aus meínen Aúgen Many a tear from my eyes

The syllables here may be grouped in trochees—disyllabic feet in the pattern

6. See Kayser, Kleine deutsche Versschule, 23.

Gelássen stiég die Nácht an’s Lánd, u-u-u-u-

Aus der Heímat hínter den Blítzen rót uu-u-uu-u-

Aber Váter und Mútter sind lánge tódt, uu-uu-uu-u-

Meine Rúh ist hín, My peace is gone,

Ich grólle nícht, und wénn das Hérz auch brícht,

Am Brúnnen vòr dem Tóre, By the well in front of the gate,

Example 1.1: Schubert, “Der Lindenbaum,” Winterreise No. 5, mm. 9–16

“O versenk,’ o versenk’ dein Leid, mein Kind,

“Oh drown, oh drown your sorrow, my child

Ein Stein wohl bleibt auf des Meeres Grund,

From Poetic Rhythm to Musical Rhythm

Harald Krebs has developed a systematic methodology for identifying distortions

Basic-Level Musical Rhythms

The Line and Couplet Setting: Declamatory Schemas

Example 1.3: Schubert, “Gute Nacht,” Winterreise No. 1, mm. 8–15

The trimeter schema in Schubert’s 3/4 setting of “Der Lindenbaum” (Winterreise

Example 1.5: Schumann, “Im Rhein,” Dichterliebe No. 6, mm. 1–8

[1, 2 / 1 -] 1, 3, 7, 11, 12 1, 2, 5, 8, 10, 11, Op. 1 No. 1

* Songs with changing schemas

Table 1.1 summarizes the trimeter schemas in Winterreise, Dichterliebe, and

Example 1.7: Schubert, “Erstarrung,” Winterreise No. 4, mm. 8–23

Example 1.8: Schubert, “Wasserﬂut,” Winterreise No. 6, mm. 5–8

Schubert’s “Wasserﬂut” (Winterreise No. 6) illustrates a combination of two

Upbeat beginnings enable the placement of the ﬁnal accented syllables of

Example 1.10: Hensel, “Morgenständchen,” Op. 1 No. 5, mm. 1–10

is indicative of Brahms’s interest in “mixed metric complexes,” meters that com-

Table 1.2: Taxonomy of Common Tetrameter Schemas

Two plus two [1, 2 / 1, 2] [1, 2 - / 1, 2 -] [1 - 3 - / 1 - 3 -]

Table 1.3: Tetrameter Schemas in Winterreise

2. Die Wetterfahne 6/8 [1, 2 / 1, 2]

* These are the unusual schemas, not included in table 1.2

Table 1.4: Tetrameter Schemas in Hensel’s Opp. 1 and 7

Wanderlied, Op. 1 No. 2 4/8 [4 / 1 - 3 / 1 - -]

*These are the unusual schemas, not included in table 1.2

Example 1.14: Schubert, “An den Schlaf,” D. 447, mm. 1–2

Beyond Declamatory Schemas

1. Am Brunnen vor dem Tore, By the well in front of the gate,

Ich träumt’ in seinem Schatten, / So manchen süssen Traum.

6