The poster outside of Alice Tully Hall promised that baritone Simon Keenlyside would be singing the Lieder “eines fahrenden Gesellen” of Mahler, and therefore it was rather a disappointment to enter the auditorium and discover that these magnificent pieces were actually not on the program. This was the only letdown of the afternoon, however, as the young Briton presented a contemplative and stimulating recital.

Mahler was indeed on the menu, specifically songs from the Wunderhorn and the pen of Friedrich Ruckert. One of the Ruckertlieder is a frozen depiction of a memory, so delicate in its construction that it appears to be almost a double haiku (Ruckert was a professor of Oriental literature). This song, “Ich atmet’ einen linden Duft,” was written as a love song to Alma and is usually dismissed as the weakest of the lot. Actually, it is a brilliant contrast of two images of a lime twig being presented as a fragrant token of infatuation.

The poem is in two stanzas. The first describes the memory of a past tryst while the second expresses the present overwhelming sensation of the aroma of limes and love (Ruckert seems to have anticipated the theory that deja vu is actually triggered by olfactory impulses). The fulcrum of the piece is the changing of the one little word meaning “to be.” Not only has the tense changed from past to present, but the space between the two stanzas has taken on the role of a synapse and the entire poem is framed as a physical description of a wonderful memory. Mahler imbued his expressions of passion for Alma with a deep intellectual content; he didn’t write mere ditties.

Thus I was especially pleased with the cerebral approach of Mr. Keenlyside and his excellent recital partner Julius Drake. There was no sense of Mr. Drake being but an accompanist. He was definitely an equally emotive artist in this scenario. They made much of presenting differing styles within the Mahler output, beginning with a fabulously searching, almost breathless, rendition of that Ruckert miniature, surveying the humor of St.

Anthony preaching to the fish, bringing tears to the eye with “Liebst du um Schonheit” and building a stirring climax for “Scheiden und Meiden.” I experimented on Mr. Keenlyside a bit by giving up my prime seat and journeying to the furthest reaches of the hall. I can now testify that this baritone has definite back-row power.

For an opera singer, Mr. Keenlyside is refreshingly reticent to impose any persona onto a lieder recital. Considering that many denizens of the opera world hurry through these songfests in order to get to the encores, where they can then put the rose back in their teeth and pretend to be bullfighters again, this style of sober, genuine art-song singing was quite impressive.

The first half of the program was devoted mostly to Schubert, not the familiar and beloved, but rather the relatively unknown heroic ballads, such as Prometheus. Here Mr. Keenlyside showed great sensitivity and taste, not investing the narrative with deep emotion perhaps, but instead emphasizing the lyrical nature of the romantic progression. Where a Lawrence Tibbett might have delineated the outer trappings of the character, Mr. Keenlyside strove for and achieved a much smoother example of flowingly lovely music-making. In the one well-known song, “Fischerweise,” he was supremely agile and good-humored.

Perhaps as an antidote for all of this scholarship, the pair did feature an encore program of French love songs that was simply masterful. Beginning with “Nuit d’Etoiles” by Debussy, Mr. Keenlyside let loose his youthful vigor and infused the reflective piece with an undercurrent of passion that was all the more affecting for having made its first appearance of the day. Following with two exquisite pieces by Faure, we quickly were transported into the rarified air of purity of love.

“Papillons,” written when the composer was all of 15, is as diaphanous as music ever gets, and Mr. Keenlyside treated it with just the right touch of nimble delicacy. “The Tuscan Serenade” allowed him to feature his operatic and expansive top line, certainly the strongest range in his armamentarium. In one of those glorious moments that occur only in live performance, a final hushed love song was greeted at its conclusion by an elderly female voice clearly but quietly exclaiming “magnifique.” I wholeheartedly concur.