Young Love

Listen to:

Young Love (1:35)

by Andrew Marvell 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Andrew Marvell was born this day in 1621

Come, little infant, love me now,

   While thine unsuspected years

Clear thine agèd father’s brow

   From cold jealousy and fears.

Pretty, surely, ’twere to see

   By young love old time beguiled,

While our sportings are as free

   As the nurse’s with the child.

Common beauties stay fifteen;

   Such as yours should swifter move,

Whose fair blossoms are too green

   Yet for lust, but not for love.

Love as much the snowy lamb,

   Or the wanton kid, does prize,

As the lusty bull or ram,

   For his morning sacrifice.

Now then love me: time may take

   Thee before thy time away:

Of this need we’ll virtue make,

   And learn love before we may.

So we win of doubtful fate;

   And if good she to us meant,

We that good shall antedate,

   Or, if ill, that ill prevent.

Thus as kingdoms, frustrating

   Other titles to their crown,

In the cradle crown their king,

   So all foreign claims to drown,

So, to make all rivals vain,

   Now I crown thee with my love:

Crown me with thy love again,

   And we both shall monarchs prove.

Edward Fitzgerald, translator of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, was born this day in 1809

Listen to quatrains from Edward Fitzgerald's translation of Omar Khayyam on Eclectic Rhapsodics:

May 2, 2015

February 12, 2016

February 25, 2016

Hope

Listen to:

Hope (:41)

by Emily Dickinson 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I 've heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

If I Can Stop

Listen to:

If I Can Stop (:27)

by Emily Dickinson 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.

I'm Nobody

Listen to:

I'm Nobody (:31)

by Emily Dickinson 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

I'm nobody!  Who are you?

Are you nobody, too?

Then there 's a pair of us -- don't tell!

They 'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!

How public, like a frog

To tell your name the livelong day

To an admiring bog!

Love (II)

Listen to:

Love (II) (1:10)

by George Herbert 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Immortal Heat, O let Thy greater flame

      Attract the lesser to it; let those fires

      Which shall consume the world first make it tame,

And kindle in our hearts such true desires

As may consume our lusts, and make Thee way:

      Then shall our hearts pant Thee, then shall our brain

      All her invention on Thine altar lay,

And there in hymns send back Thy fire again.

Our eyes shall see Thee, which before saw dust,

      Dust blown by wit, till that they both were blind:

      Thou shalt recover all Thy goods in kind,

Who wert disseized by usurping lust:

All knees shall bow to Thee; all wits shall rise,

And praise Him Who did make and mend our eyes.

In a Vale

Listen to:

In a Vale (1:23)

by Robert Frost 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Robert Frost was born this day in 1874

    When I was young, we dwelt in a vale

    By a misty fen that rang all night,

    And thus it was the maidens pale

    I knew so well, whose garments trail

    Across the reeds to a window light.

    The fen had every kind of bloom,

    And for every kind there was a face,

    And a voice that has sounded in my room

    Across the sill from the outer gloom.

    Each came singly unto her place,

    But all came every night with the mist;

    And often they brought so much to say

    Of things of moment to which, they wist,

    One so lonely was fain to list,

    That the stars were almost faded away

    Before the last went, heavy with dew,

    Back to the place from which she came—

    Where the bird was before it flew,

    Where the flower was before it grew,

    Where bird and flower were one and the same.

    And thus it is I know so well

    Why the flower has odor, the bird has song.

    You have only to ask me, and I can tell.

    No, not vainly there did I dwell,

    Nor vainly listen all the night long.

from A Boy's Will

First published by David Nutt of London in 1913

Flame-Heart

Listen to:

Flame-Heart (2:02)

by Claude McKay 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

So much have I forgotten in ten years,
  So much in ten brief years; I have forgot
What time the purple apples come to juice
  And what month brings the shy forget-me-not;
Forgotten is the special, startling season
  Of some beloved tree’s flowering and fruiting,
What time of year the ground doves brown the fields
  And fill the noonday with their curious fluting:
I have forgotten much, but still remember
The poinsettia’s red, blood-red in warm December.

I still recall the honey-fever grass,
  But I cannot bring back to mind just when
We rooted them out of the ping-wing path
  To stop the mad bees in the rabbit pen.
I often try to think in what sweet month
  The languid painted ladies used to dapple
The yellow bye road mazing from the main,
  Sweet with the golden threads of the rose-apple:
I have forgotten, strange, but quite remember
The poinsettia’s red, blood-red in warm December.

What weeks, what months, what time o’ the mild year
  We cheated school to have our fling at tops?
What days our wine-thrilled bodies pulsed with joy
  Feasting upon blackberries in the copse?
Oh, some I know! I have embalmed the days,
  Even the sacred moments, when we played,
All innocent of passion uncorrupt.
  At noon and evening in the flame-heart’s shade:
We were so happy, happy,—I remember
Beneath the poinsettia’s red in warm December.

Keep Your Splendid Silent Sun

Listen to:

Keep Your Splendid Silent Sun (2:21)

by Walt Whitman 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Keep your splendid silent sun,

Keep your woods O Nature, and the quiet places by the woods,

Keep your fields of clover and timothy, and your corn-fields and orchards,

Keep the blossoming buckwheat fields where the Ninth-month bees hum;

Give me faces and streets--give me these phantoms incessant and

    endless along the trottoirs!

Give me interminable eyes--give me women--give me comrades and

    lovers by the thousand!

Let me see new ones every day--let me hold new ones by the hand every day!

Give me such shows--give me the streets of Manhattan!

Give me Broadway, with the soldiers marching--give me the sound of

    the trumpets and drums!

(The soldiers in companies or regiments--some starting away, flush'd

    and reckless,

Some, their time up, returning with thinn'd ranks, young, yet very

    old, worn, marching, noticing nothing;)

Give me the shores and wharves heavy-fringed with black ships!

O such for me! O an intense life, full to repletion and varied!

The life of the theatre, bar-room, huge hotel, for me!

The saloon of the steamer! the crowded excursion for me! the

    torchlight procession!

The dense brigade bound for the war, with high piled military wagons

    following;

People, endless, streaming, with strong voices, passions, pageants,

Manhattan streets with their powerful throbs, with beating drums as now,

The endless and noisy chorus, the rustle and clank of muskets, (even

    the sight of the wounded,)

Manhattan crowds, with their turbulent musical chorus!

Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me.

Give Me the Splendid Silent Sun

Listen to:

Give Me the Splendid Silent Sun (1:20)

by Walt Whitman 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Give me the splendid silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling,

Give me autumnal fruit ripe and red from the orchard,

Give me a field where the unmow'd grass grows,

Give me an arbor, give me the trellis'd grape,

Give me fresh corn and wheat, give me serene-moving animals teaching

    content,

Give me nights perfectly quiet as on high plateaus west of the

    Mississippi, and I looking up at the stars,

Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can

    walk undisturb'd,

Give me for marriage a sweet-breath'd woman of whom I should never tire,

Give me a perfect child, give me away aside from the noise of the

    world a rural domestic life,

Give me to warble spontaneous songs recluse by myself, for my own ears only,

Give me solitude, give me Nature, give me again O Nature your primal

    sanities!

The Awakening

Listen to:

The Awakening (1:00)

by James Weldon Johnson 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

I dreamed that I was a rose
That grew beside a lonely way,
Close by a path none ever chose,
And there I lingered day by day.
Beneath the sunshine and the show’r
I grew and waited there apart,
Gathering perfume hour by hour,
And storing it within my heart,
        Yet, never knew,
Just why I waited there and grew.

I dreamed that you were a bee
That one day gaily flew along,
You came across the hedge to me,
And sang a soft, love-burdened song.
You brushed my petals with a kiss,
I woke to gladness with a start,
And yielded up to you in bliss
The treasured fragrance of my heart;
        And then I knew
That I had waited there for you.

The Clod and the Pebble

Listen to:

The Clod and the Pebble (:45)

by William Blake

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

"Love seeketh not itself to please,

Nor for itself hath any care,

But for another gives its ease,

And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."

So sung a little Clod of Clay

Trodden with the cattle's feet,

But a Pebble of the brook

Warbled out these metres meet:

"Love seeketh only self to please,

To bind another to its delight,

Joys in another's loss of ease,

And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite."

Love (I)

Listen to:

Love (I) (1:10)

by George Herbert 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Immortal Love, author of this great frame,

      Sprung from that beauty which can never fade,

      How hath man parcel'd out Thy glorious name,

And thrown it on that dust which Thou hast made,

While mortal love doth all the title gain!

      Which siding with Invention, they together

      Bear all the sway, possessing heart and brain,

(Thy workmanship) and give Thee share in neither.

Wit fancies beauty, beauty raiseth wit;

      The world is theirs, they two play out the game,

      Thou standing by: and though Thy glorious name

Wrought our deliverance from th' infernal pit,

Who sings Thy praise? Only a scarf or glove

Doth warm our hands, and make them write of love.

Death

Listen to:

Death (2:07)

by Walt Whitman 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

from Song of Myself

49

And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to

    try to alarm me.

To his work without flinching the accoucheur  comes,

I see the elder-hand pressing receiving supporting,

I recline by the sills of the exquisite flexible doors,

And mark the outlet, and mark the relief and escape.

And as to you Corpse I think you are good manure, but that does not

    offend me,

I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing,

I reach to the leafy lips, I reach to the polish'd breasts of melons.

And as to you Life I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths,

(No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.)

I hear you whispering there O stars of heaven,

O suns--O grass of graves--O perpetual transfers and promotions,

If you do not say any thing how can I say any thing?

Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest,

Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing twilight,

Toss, sparkles of day and dusk--toss on the black stems that decay

    in the muck,

Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs.

I ascend from the moon, I ascend from the night,

I perceive that the ghastly glimmer is noonday sunbeams reflected,

And debouch to the steady and central from the offspring great or small.

Mutation

Listen to:

Mutation (1:13)

by William Cullen Bryant 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

They talk of short-lived pleasure—be it so—
Pain dies as quickly: stern, hard-featured pain
Expires, and lets her weary prisoner go.
The fiercest agonies have shortest reign;
And after dreams of horror, comes again
The welcome morning with its rays of peace.
Oblivion, softly wiping out the stain,
Makes the strong secret pangs of shame to cease:
Remorse is virtue’s root; its fair increase
Are fruits of innocence and blessedness:
Thus joy, o’erborne and bound, doth still release
His young limbs from the chains that round him press.
Weep not that the world changes—did it keep
A stable changeless state, ’twere cause indeed to weep.

The Song of Wandering Aengus

Listen to:

The Song of Wandering Aengus (1:19)

by William Butler Yeats 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor, 

And someone called me by my name: 

It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran 

And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering 

Through hollow lands and hilly lands, 

I will find out where she has gone, 

And kiss her lips and take her hands; 

And walk among long dappled grass, 

And pluck till time and times are done, 

The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

The Lighted Window

Listen to:

The Lighted Window (1:21)

by Sara Teasdale 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

He said:
“In the winter dusk
When the pavements were gleaming with rain,
I walked thru a dingy street
Hurried, harassed,
Thinking of all my problems that never are solved.
Suddenly out of the mist, a flaring gas-jet
Shone from a huddled shop.
I saw thru the bleary window
A mass of playthings:
False-faces hung on strings,
Valentines, paper and tinsel,
Tops of scarlet and green,
Candy, marbles, jacks—
A confusion of color
Pathetically gaudy and cheap.
All of my boyhood
Rushed back.
Once more these things were treasures
Wildly desired.
With covetous eyes I looked again at the marbles,
The precious agates, the pee-wees, the chinies—
Then I passed on.

In the winter dusk,
The pavements were gleaming with rain;
There in the lighted window
I left my boyhood.”

Sonnets Are Full of Love

Listen to:

Sonnets Are Full of Love (1:11)

by Christina Rossetti 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

(For my wonderful mother, Cruz Gonzalez, née Mondello, on her 84th birthday)

Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome 

Has many sonnets: so here now shall be 

One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me 

To her whose heart is my heart's quiet home, 

To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee 

I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome; 

Whose service is my special dignity, 

And she my loadstar while I go and come 

And so because you love me, and because 

I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath 

Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honoured name: 

In you not fourscore years can dim the flame 

Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws 

Of time and change and mortal life and death.

The Mystery

Listen to:

The Mystery (1:28)

by Paul Laurence Dunbar 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

I was not; now I am—a few days hence
I shall not be; I fain would look before
And after, but can neither do; some Power
Or lack of power says “no” to all I would.
I stand upon a wide and sunless plain,
Nor chart nor steel to guide my steps aright.
Whene’er, o’ercoming fear, I dare to move,
I grope without direction and by chance.
Some feign to hear a voice and feel a hand
That draws them ever upward thro’ the gloom.
But I—I hear no voice and touch no hand,
Tho’ oft thro’ silence infinite I list,
And strain my hearing to supernal sounds;
Tho’ oft thro’ fateful darkness do I reach,
And stretch my hand to find that other hand.
I question of th’ eternal bending skies
That seem to neighbor with the novice earth;
But they roll on, and daily shut their eyes
On me, as I one day shall do on them,
And tell me not the secret that I ask.

What the Thrush Said

Wood Thrush photo by Bob Gress birdsinfocus.com

Listen to:

What the Thrush Said (1:02)

by John Keats 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

O Thou whose face hath felt the Winter’s wind,
Whose eye has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist,
And the black elm tops ’mong the freezing stars,
To thee the spring will be a harvest-time.
O thou, whose only book has been the light
Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on
Night after night when Phœbus was away,
To thee the Spring shall be a triple morn.
O fret not after knowledge—I have none,
And yet my song comes native with the warmth.
O fret not after knowledge—I have none,
And yet the Evening listens. He who saddens
At the thought of idleness cannot be idle,
And he’s awake who thinks himself asleep.

A Sailor’s Rhyme

Listen to:

A Sailor’s Rhyme (:56)

by Robert Louis Stevenson 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

The wind blew shrill and smart,
And the wind awoke my heart
Again to go a-sailing o'er the sea,
To hear the cordage moan
And the straining timbers groan,
And to see the flying pennon lie a-lee.

O sailor of the fleet,
It is time to stir the feet!
It's time to man the dingy and to row!
It's lay your hand in mine
And it's empty down the wine,
And it's drain a health to death before we go!

To death, my lads, we sail;
And it's death that blows the gale
And death that holds the tiller as we ride.
For he's the king of all
In the tempest and the squall,
And the ruler of the Ocean wild and wide!

Sunrise

Listen to:

Sunrise (1:17)

Lizette Woodworth Reese 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

The east is yellow as a daffodil.
Three steeples—three stark swarthy arms—are thrust 

Up from the town. The gnarlèd poplars thrill
Down the long street in some keen salty gust— 

Straight from the sea and all the sailing ships—
Turn white, black, white again, with noises sweet 

And swift. Back to the night the last star slips.
High up the air is motionless, a sheet
Of light. The east grows yellower apace,
And trembles: then, once more, and suddenly,
The salt wind blows, and in that moment’s space 

Flame roofs, and poplar-tops, and steeples three; 

From out the mist that wraps the river-ways,
The little boats, like torches, start ablaze.

On Fruition

Listen to:

On Fruition (:38)

by Sir Charles Sedley 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

None, but a Muse in love, can tell

The sweet tumultuous joys I feel,

When on Cælia’s breast I lie,

When I tremble, faint, and die;

Mingling kisses with embraces,

Darting tongues, and joining faces,

Panting, stretching, sweating, cooing,

All in the ecstasy of doing.

 (from Works, 1722)

To His Coy Love

Listen to:

To His Coy Love (1:29)

by Michael Drayton 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

I pray thee, leave, love me no more,

  Call home the heart you gave me!

I but in vain that saint adore

  That can but will not save me.

These poor half-kisses kill me quite—

  Was ever man thus servèd?

Amidst an ocean of delight

  For pleasure to be starvèd?

Show me no more those snowy breasts

  With azure riverets branchèd,

Where, whilst mine eye with plenty feasts,

  Yet is my thirst not stanchèd;

O Tantalus, thy pains ne'er tell!

  By me thou art prevented:

'Tis nothing to be plagued in Hell,

  But thus in Heaven tormented.

Clip me no more in those dear arms,

  Nor thy life's comfort call me,

O these are but too powerful charms,

  And do but more enthral me!

But see how patient I am grown

  In all this coil about thee:

Come, nice thing, let my heart alone,

  I cannot live without thee!

Most Sweet It Is

Listen to:

Most Sweet It Is  (:58)

by William Wordsworth 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
To pace the ground, if path be there or none,
While a fair region round the traveller lies
Which he forbears again to look upon;
Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
Of meditation, slipping in between
The beauty coming and the beauty gone.
If Thought and Love desert us from that day,
Let us break off all commerce with the Muse:
With Thought and Love companions of our way,
Whate’er the senses take or may refuse,
The Mind’s internal heaven shall shed her dews
Of inspiration on the humblest lay.

Devouring Time

Listen to:

Devouring Time (1:14)

by William Shakespeare 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Sonnet XIX.

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,

And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;

Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,

And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;

Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st,

And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,

To the wide world and all her fading sweets;

But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:

O! carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,

Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;

Him in thy course untainted do allow

For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.

Yet, do thy worst old Time: despite thy wrong,

My love shall in my verse ever live young.

How do I love thee?

Listen to:

How do I love thee? (1:13)

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Sonnets from the Portuguese 43: 

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being and ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day’s

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

At Last

Listen to:

At Last (1:10)

by Christina Rossetti 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Many have sung of love a root of bane:
       While to my mind a root of balm it is,
    For love at length breeds love; sufficient bliss
For life and death and rising up again.
Surely when light of Heaven makes all things plain,
    Love will grow plain with all its mysteries;
    Nor shall we need to fetch from over seas
Wisdom or wealth or pleasure safe from pain.
Love in our borders, love within our heart,
    Love all in all, we then shall bide at rest,
    Ended for ever life’s unending quest,
         Ended for ever effort, change and fear:
Love all in all; —no more that better part
         Purchased, but at the cost of all things here.

Aware

Listen to:

Aware (:41)

by David Herbert Lawrence 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Slowly the moon is rising out of the ruddy haze,
Divesting herself of her golden shift, and so
Emerging white and exquisite; and I in amaze
See in the sky before me, a woman I did not know
I loved, but there she goes and her beauty hurts my heart;
I follow her down the night, begging her not to depart.

  

Of the Last Verses in the Book

Listen to:

Of the Last Verses in the Book (1:25)

by Edmund Waller 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Edmund Waller was born this day in 1606

When we for age could neither read nor write,

The subject made us able to indite.

The soul, with nobler resolutions deckt,

The body stooping, does herself erect:

No mortal parts are requisite to raise

Her, that unbodied can her Maker praise.

The seas are quiet, when the winds give o’er,

So calm are we, when passions are no more:

For then we know how vain it was to boast

Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.

Clouds of affection from our younger eyes

Conceal that emptiness, which age descries.

The soul’s dark cottage, batter’d and decay’d,

Lets in new light through chinks that time has made;

Stronger by weakness, wiser men become

As they draw near to their eternal home:

Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,

That stand upon the threshold of the new.

Love’s Secret

Pablo Picasso "The Lovers"

Listen to:

Love’s Secret (:47)

by William Blake 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Never seek to tell thy love,   

  Love that never told can be;   

For the gentle wind doth move   

  Silently, invisibly.   

  

I told my love, I told my love,

  I told her all my heart,   

Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.   

  Ah! she did depart!   

  

Soon after she was gone from me,   

  A traveller came by,

Silently, invisibly:   

  He took her with a sigh.

March

Listen to:

March (:38)

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

In ancient Rome, March was the first month of the year until Numa, second king of Rome, changed the beginning of the year to January around 700 B. C.

I Martius am! Once first, and now the third!
To lead the Year was my appointed place;
A mortal dispossessed me by a word,
And set there Janus with the double face.
Hence I make war on all the human race;
I shake the cities with my hurricanes;
I flood the rivers and their banks efface,
And drown the farms and hamlets with my rains.

from The Poet's Calendar