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Jacob Obrecht
Kyrie from Missa Sub tuum praesidium
The Clerks’ Group

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 

And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

from T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land

Jacob Regnart
'Quare tristis es, anima mea?' motet

Philippe Verdelot
'Si bona suscepimus' motet
The Tallis Scholars

Antoine Brumel
Kyrie Eleison from Missa Et ecce terrae motus
Huelgas Ensemble