Metaphysics

Listen to: 

Metaphysics (1:08)

by Oliver Herford 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Why and Wherefore set out one day

       To hunt for a wild Negation.

They agreed to meet at a cool retreat

       On the Point of Interrogation.

But the night was dark and they missed their mark,

       And, driven well-nigh to distraction,

They lost their ways in a murky maze

       Of utter abstruse abstraction.

Then they took a boat and were soon afloat

       On a sea of Speculation,

But the sea grew rough, and their boat, though tough,

       Was split into an Equation.

As they floundered about in the waves of doubt

       Rose a fearful Hypothesis,

Who gibbered with glee as they sank in the sea,

       And the last they saw was this:

On a rock-bound reef of Unbelief

       There sat the wild Negation;

Then they sank once more and were washed ashore

       At the Point of Interrogation.

I Have a Rendezvous With Death

Listen to: 

I Have a Rendezvous With Death (1:22)

by Alan Seeger 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

I have a rendezvous with Death


At some disputed barricade,


When Spring comes back with rustling shade 

And apple-blossoms fill the air —


I have a rendezvous with Death


When Spring brings back blue days and fair. 

It may be he shall take my hand 

And lead me into his dark land 

And close my eyes and quench my breath — 

It may be I shall pass him still.


I have a rendezvous with Death


On some scarred slope of battered hill, 

When Spring comes round again this year 

And the first meadow-flowers appear. 

God knows 'twere better to be deep 

Pillowed in silk and scented down, 

Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep, 

Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath, 

Where hushed awakenings are dear . . . 

But I've a rendezvous with Death 

At midnight in some flaming town, 

When Spring trips north again this year, 

And I to my pledged word am true,


I shall not fail that rendezvous. 

Harp Song of the Dane Women

Listen to: 

Harp Song of the Dane Women (1:28)

by Rudyard Kipling 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

What is a woman that you forsake her,
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,
To go with the old grey Widow-maker?

She has no house to lay a guest in—
But one chill bed for all to rest in,
That the pale suns and the stray bergs nest in.

She has no strong white arms to fold you,
But the ten-times-fingering weed to hold you—
Out on the rocks where the tide has rolled you.

Yet, when the signs of summer thicken,
And the ice breaks, and the birch-buds quicken,
Yearly you turn from our side, and sicken—

Sicken again for the shouts and the slaughters.
You steal away to the lapping waters,
And look at your ship in her winter-quarters.

You forget our mirth, and talk at the tables,
The kine in the shed and the horse in the stables—
To pitch her sides and go over her cables.

Then you drive out where the storm-clouds swallow,
And the sound of your oar-blades, falling hollow,
Is all we have left through the months to follow.

Ah, what is Woman that you forsake her,
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,
To go with the old grey Widow-maker ?


Illustration: Waiting by the Window by Carl Holsoe (12 March 1863 – 7 November 1935), a Danish artist who primarily painted interiors.

Ode, Composed On A May Morning

Listen to:

Ode, Composed On A May Morning (3:17)

by William Wordsworth 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

While from the purpling east departs
The star that led the dawn,
Blithe Flora from her couch upstarts,
For May is on the lawn.
A quickening hope, a freshening glee,
Foreran the expected Power,
Whose first-drawn breath, from bush and tree,
Shakes off that pearly shower.

All Nature welcomes Her whose sway
Tempers the year's extremes;
Who scattereth lustres o'er noon-day,
Like morning's dewy gleams;
While mellow warble, sprightly trill,
The tremulous heart excite;
And hums the balmy air to still
The balance of delight.

Time was, blest Power! when youth and maids
At peep of dawn would rise,
And wander forth, in forest glades
Thy birth to solemnize.
Though mute the song---to grace the rite
Untouched the hawthorn bough,
Thy Spirit triumphs o'er the slight;
Man changes, but not Thou!

Thy feathered Lieges bill and wings
In love's disport employ;
Warmed by thy influence, creeping things
Awake to silent joy:
Queen art thou still for each gay plant
Where the slim wild deer roves;
And served in depths where fishes haunt
Their own mysterious groves.

Cloud-piercing peak, and trackless heath,
Instinctive homage pay;
Nor wants the dim-lit cave a wreath
To honor thee, sweet May!
Where cities fanned by thy brisk airs
Behold a smokeless sky,
Their puniest flower-pot-nursling dares
To open a bright eye.

And if, on this thy natal morn,
The pole, from which thy name
Hath not departed, stands forlorn
Of song and dance and game;
Still from the village-green a vow
Aspires to thee addrest,
Wherever peace is on the brow,
Or love within the breast.

Yes! where Love nestles thou canst teach
The soul to love the more;
Hearts also shall thy lessons reach
That never loved before.
Stript is the haughty one of pride,
The bashful freed from fear,
While rising, like the ocean-tide,
In flow the joyous year.

Hush, feeble lyre! weak words refuse
The service to prolong!
To yon exulting thrush the Muse
Entrusts the imperfect song;
His voice shall chant, in accents clear,
Throughout the live-long day,
Till the first silver star appear,
The sovereignty of May.

The Dead

Listen to: 

The Dead (1:17)

Rupert Brooke 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

  These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,

    Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.

  The years had given them kindness.  Dawn was theirs,

    And sunset, and the colours of the earth.

  These had seen movement, and heard music; known

    Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;

  Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;

    Touched flowers and furs, and cheeks.  All this is ended.

  There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter

  And lit by the rich skies, all day.  And after,

    Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance

  And wandering loveliness.  He leaves a white

    Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,

  A width, a shining peace, under the night.

Song

Listen to: 

Song (:30)

Laurence Binyon 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

For Mercy, Courage, Kindness, Mirth,
There is no measure upon earth;
Nay, they wither, root and stem,
If an end be set to them.

Overbrim and overflow
If your own heart you would know.
For the spirit, born to bless,
Lives but in its own excess.

A Rhapsode’s Random Rhapsody for May 2020

Listen to:

A Rhapsode’s Random Rhapsody 

for May 2020

Performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

https://archive.org/details/rhapsode-random-rhapsody-may2020

1 In May - William Henry Davies - 01:20

2 A Bird's Anger - William Henry Davies - 00:55

3 Exotic Perfume - Charles Baudelaire - 01:00

4 Fiddler Jones - Edgar Lee Masters - 01:37

5 She Walks in Beauty - George Gordon, Lord Byron - 01:06

6 Fragment II - Alan Seeger - 01:06

7 Mowing - Robert Frost - 01:03

8 The Ambitious Mouse - John Farrar - 00:52

9 Fragment IV - Alan Seeger - 01:55

10 Chanticleer - Katherine Tynan - 01:41

11 The Long Road - A. E. Housman - 00:57

12 The Bindweed - Walter de la Mare - 00:48

13 The Lion and the Mouse - Jeffreys Taylor - 02:05

14 Feuerzauber - Louis Untermeyer - 01:08

15 A Life on the Ocean Wave - Epes Sargent - 01:15

16 The Darkling Thrush - Thomas Hardy - 01:41

17 Ballad - John Clare - 01:19

18 The Minstrel Boy - Thomas Moore - 01:04

19 The Dead - Rupert Brooke - 01:18

20 The Poplar Field - William Cowper - 01:32

21 To His Mistress, Objecting to Him Neither Toying or Talking - Robert Herrick - 01:14

22 A Last Word - Ernest Dowson - 01:07

23 Mother Night - James Weldon Johnson - 01:07

24 The Sun-God - Aubrey Thomas de Vere - 01:11