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    Spring Will Come Again: Story, Song, and Sorrow in Anaïs Mitchell’s Hadestown

    “Orpheus with his lute made trees    And the mountain tops that freeze      Bow themselves when he did sing:    To his music plants and flowers    Ever sprung; as sun and showers    There had made a lasting spring.    Every thing that heard him play,    Even the billows of the sea,      Hung their heads and then lay by.    In sweet music is such art,    Killing care and grief of heart      Fall asleep, or hearing, die.” —William Shakespeare, Orpheus “On the road to Hell there was a railroad line/And a poor boy workin’ on a song/His mama was a friend…