A few years ago, Ned Rorem, the famed American composer, made an opera out of Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town.” New York got its first look at this opera on Wednesday night, when the Juilliard School put it on. It is a lovely composition, an agreeable treatment of a beloved American text.

Composers have been turning to such texts in recent years. They’ve made operas out of “The Great Gatsby,” “Little Women,” and “A Streetcar Named Desire,” among others. Two versions of “Moby-Dick” are in the works, or so I’ve heard. “To Kill a Mockingbird” has not been done, to my knowledge. Perhaps there is one somewhere.

A number of years ago, Lee Hoiby wrote a song on an “Our Town” text: “Goodby, Goodby, World.” The composer considers it his best song. And, speaking of Mr. Hoiby, a sampling of his operatic work will be presented at Symphony Space on Monday. This is a good period in New York for opera by songful American composers.

For several dark decades, such composers were badly out of fashion: Extreme academic atonality rode high. Mr. Rorem, Mr. Hoiby, and some others kept following the melodies in their heads and hearts. In an interview, Mr. Rorem once told me that he felt like the Prodigal Son’s brother: He never went astray.

The libretto for “Our Town” has been fashioned by J.D. McClatchy, the poet and all-around man of letters. He has fashioned many a libretto, for many an American opera. And, for this one, he has done his usual neat, lyrical job.

Mr. Rorem’s score is intimate, sincere, and economical — economical without being thin. Much of it is gently rocking, even seesawing. Mr. Rorem obviously knows how to write for voices, whether singly or together. The orchestra does interesting things under the voices, or through them, or along with them. Often the orchestra pipes down when a singer begins to sing: The singer is lightly accompanied.

And the orchestra includes a piano, which has much to play. I believe that Prokofiev and Shostakovich — free users of the piano — would approve.

Mr. Rorem does not provide arias, duets, or set pieces. “Our Town” is pretty much through-composed. There are ariosos, you might say, and snatches of duet. “Our Town” is a talky play, and Mr. Rorem has written a talky opera — but not one cluttered with talk.

He employs traditional hymns, mixing them with dissonance, as so many composers do. And he does the common trick of using dissonance to suggest anxiety, or dire things to come.

Usually, the music sounds like the text, or conforms to the text: Smoke goes up a chimney, and the music goes up too; a boy scrambles down the stairs, and the music scrambles down too. Mr. Rorem sounds very American when he plays with the phrase “Whaddya know?”

Throughout the opera, he calls on various American traditions. Act 1 has what I might term a barbershop trio. Along the way, he quotes Handel’s “Largo” and Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March,” to enjoyable effect. The scene at the soda fountain, where the young couple, George and Emily, confess their love, is marvelously tender. Later, their declarations in church are both intimate and stirring.

This is a shortish opera — about two hours — and Mr. Rorem paces it nicely. What seems his affection for the story stands out. The uncharitable might say that the music is kitschy and hokey, and there is sometimes danger of that. But the danger does not really come to pass. And the last act has a measured turbulence that makes you uneasy in your chair — properly so.

“Our Town,” as Mr. Rorem has composed it, comes out of a school: an American school. This school is not for everyone, but it is for many people. “The Tender Land,” by Copland, is an example of this school. That is not seen very often these days. And will Mr. Rorem’s “Our Town” be seen, in coming years? I think so — often enough. People will probably always love the play, and they may find the opera a kind of worthy musical supplement.

At the end of Wednesday night’s performance, Mr. Rorem — who will turn 85 this year — came out to receive applause. He was wearing his trademark white tennis shoes. And he looked as game as ever.

The Juilliard Opera Center gave his opera a gratifying performance. It was led by Anne Manson, a conductor who has worked throughout the country (and elsewhere). She was competent, orderly, and sensitive. The cast was full of fresh, natural, and (of course) youthful singers. There was very little amateurism — or studentism — in evidence.

Singing Emily was the soprano Jennifer Zetlan, endearing and affecting. She produced endless ribbons of strong, clear lyricism. Singing George was the tenor Alek Shrader, smooth and easy. He is a Polenzani in the making.

The production is by Edward Berkeley, who directs the Aspen Opera Theater Center, and it is tasteful and apt. The production has the simplicity of the story and the score — a simplicity that is not simplistic.

In all, a successful evening, especially for Ned Rorem, from whom music still streams.