Snow-White Hands, Broken Hearts: The Sally Gardens Story
Five ways to cry musically about the one that got away
The Sally Gardens has been in my life for a very long time. It was perhaps one of the first songs I ever sang seriously. Because it’s been with me so long, I can never tell if it’s truly well known, or if I’ve just taken it for granted. When I was researching recordings for this newsletter, I found so many arrangements for all sorts of ensembles, so I think it will sound familiar to you, too.
If you know it, you might also know that before it was ever a song, it was a poem by W.B. Yeats - Ireland’s most dramatic romantic (and that's saying something). It’s all about young love, missed chances, and some very metaphorical trees.
This quiet little tune wound its way through Irish tradition and caught the attention of some serious classical heavy-hitters; including Benjamin Britten, Rebecca Clarke, Ivor Gurney, and John Ireland. Don’t worry if you don’t know who they are - you will by the end of this newsletter.
Where it all started: Yeats and a bit of regret
The Sally Gardens began life as a short poem in the 1880’s. Yeats claimed he pieced it together from something an old woman once said to him. The story is simple: a young guy falls in love, ignores good advice, and ends up heartbroken. Classic.
The "sally gardens" are just willows, as in, willow trees. ‘Salley’ or ‘Sally’ is old English for willow. Apparently, people used to plant them near water to use for thatched roofs. Kind of romantic, right?
But in Yeats’ hands, the whole thing becomes a soft, aching reflection on love lost and lessons learned too late. Here’s the full poem:
Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet;
She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree;
But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.
In a field by the river my love and I did stand,
And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs
But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.
btw, weirs are just low dams (I had to google).
The traditional tune: Simple, sad, and totally lovely
Yeats wrote the poem, but the melody we now know it by comes from an old Irish folk tune called The Maids of the Mourne Shore. It’s delicate, unassuming, and feels like something you'd hear on a walk through misty hills (ideally while going through some light emotional turmoil).
I’ve included Maura O’Connell - an Irish folk singer who performs it just perfectly. It has everything you’d want: natural simplicity, expressive folk violin, and that beautiful sense of ease.
What to listen for:
The natural rise and fall of the melody – it’s easy to sing and almost lullaby-like.
The honesty in the words – folk singers like O’Connell often let the poetry do the work, no extra drama needed.
A sense of space – this music breathes, with instrumental bridges and time to let it all settle.
Enter: Benjamin Britten (A.K.A. Mr. Mood)
Fast-forward to the 20th century, and along comes Benjamin Britten - English composer, pacifist, and full-time bringer of intense vibes. Britten loved English folk songs. In fact, he loved all folk songs and made it almost a lifelong project to collect and set them.
His arrangement of The Sally Gardens is probably the best-known version today. It’s spare but emotional. Just voice and piano, no frills, just beautiful honesty. He makes every note count. Britten preserves the folk-like simplicity but adds his own magic: a slightly aching harmony here, a delicate shift there. All so understated, you might miss it if you’re not paying close attention.
Think: someone singing you a secret they’ve never told anyone else.
What to listen for:
The opening - it’s a little strange, almost unsettling. It doesn’t bode well.
The way the piano gently echoes or comments on the voice - like a second narrator in the background.
The ending - Britten always knew how to land a quiet emotional punch. Listen around 2:05 for how he changes the harmony on the word ‘foolish’.
Rebecca Clarke: All the feels, all the time
Now, forget the classic tune.
Rebecca Clarke, violist and composer, brings something entirely different. She knew how to write music that felt. Her setting uses a pentatonic scale – a five-note scale often found in folk music. It’s clever, she creates her own folk-like melody.
Clarke leans into the emotion more than Britten, richer harmonies, more warmth, a bit of sweeping melancholy. It’s still subtle, but it draws out the unspoken passion beneath the poem’s regret.
Her setting of The Sally Gardens isn’t as famous as Britten’s, but it’s absolutely worth a listen. It’s like finding a handwritten letter in an old drawer (not that I ever found one, but that’s what I’d imagine). Quiet, but full of feeling.
What to listen for:
Harmonies that shift and sigh - the musical equivalent of someone trying not to cry (and kind of failing).
A more lyrical vocal line - Clarke lets the melody stretch more, like it’s remembering.
Ivor Gurney: Songs from the trenches
Ivor Gurney was a poet and composer who lived through World War I and suffered from mental health issues. His music carries that mix of beauty and pain. He didn’t set The Sally Gardens directly, but his songs live in the same emotional neighborhood: love, loss, nostalgia, and English landscapes fading into memory.
Listening to Gurney is like reading a diary from someone who saw too much and still managed to find beauty. His style blends English folksong warmth with bursts of expressive harmony. This is music by someone who knew pain and still wanted to find light.
I’ve chosen English baritone Benjamin Luxon, hugely famous in the 1970s and ’80s. Sadly, toward the end of the decade, he began suffering from hearing loss that ended his career.
What to listen for:
Melodies that sound like they’ve always existed - Gurney had a gift for natural, singable lines.
The contrast between the text’s simplicity and the piano’s emotional undercurrent.
John Ireland: The soundtrack to sunset walk
John Ireland’s music always feels like it’s on the edge of a memory - a little dreamy, a little sad, like remembering something sweet that now hurts just a little.
He didn’t set The Sally Gardens tune specifically either, but his songs belong in the same emotional world. His writing often feels like memory -not sharp, but hazy, like a story told through a fogged-up window. If Britten is confessional and Clarke is heartfelt, Ireland is reflective. And maybe a little haunted.
Here we have the legendary British mezzo-soprano (that’s the lower range of female voices) Janet Baker.
What to listen for:
Harmonies that shimmer and blur - Ireland loves ambiguity, and it makes his music feel timeless.
The way Baker uses her voice to tell the story – soft and loud, she can control her air flow, fast and slow.
A bittersweet mood - even the joyful parts have shadows.
How the songs unfold slowly - like someone carefully choosing their words.
This is it for this morning. Give these songs more than one listen, some of them need it, and let me know which one’s your favourite.
As always, feel free to ask any questions, give suggestions or just reach out.
Have a good weekend!