The Dandelion

Listen to: 

The Dandelion (:46)

Vachel Lindsay 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

O dandelion, rich and haughty,

King of village flowers!

Each day is coronation time,

You have no humble hours.

I like to see you bring a troop

To beat the blue-grass spears,

To scorn the lawn-mower that would be

Like fate's triumphant shears.

Your yellow heads are cut away,

It seems your reign is o'er.

By noon you raise a sea of stars

More golden than before.

Tell-Tale

Listen to: 

Tell-Tale (1:06)

by Oliver Herford 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

The Lily whispered to the Rose:

"The Tulip's fearfully stuck up.

You'd think to see the creature's pose,

She was a golden altar-cup.

There's method in her boldness, too;

She catches twice her share of Dew."

The Rose into the Tulip's ear

Murmured: "The Lily is a sight;

Don't you believe she powders, dear,

To make herself so saintly white?

She takes some trouble, it is plain,

Her reputation to sustain."

Said Tulip to the Lily white:

"About the Rose—what do you think?—

Her color? Should you say it's quite—

Well, quite a natural shade of pink?"

"Natural!" the Lily cried. "Good Saints!

Why, everybody knows she paints!"

Sonnet

Listen to: 

Sonnet (1:06)

John Masefield 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

It may be so; but let the unknown be. 

We, on this earth, are servants of the sun.

Out of the sun comes all the quick in me,

His golden touch is life to everyone.

His power it is that makes us spin through space,

His youth is April and his manhood bread,

Beauty is but a looking on his face,

He clears the mind, he makes the roses red.

What he may be, who knows? But we are his,

We roll through nothing round him, year by year,

The withering leaves upon a tree which is

Each with his greed, his little power, his fear.

What we may be, who knows? But everyone

Is dust on dust a servant of the sun. 

The Need of Being Versed in Country Things

Listen to: 

The Need of Being Versed in Country Things (1:24)

by Robert Frost 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

The house had gone to bring again

To the midnight sky a sunset glow.

Now the chimney was all of the house that stood,

Like a pistil after the petals go.

The barn opposed across the way,

That would have joined the house in flame

Had it been the will of the wind, was left

To bear forsaken the place’s name.

No more it opened with all one end

For teams that came by the stony road

To drum on the floor with scurrying hoofs

And brush the mow with the summer load.

The birds that came to it through the air

At broken windows flew out and in,

Their murmur more like the sigh we sigh

From too much dwelling on what has been.

Yet for them the lilac renewed its leaf,

And the aged elm, though touched with fire;

And the dry pump flung up an awkward arm;

And the fence post carried a strand of wire.

For them there was really nothing sad.

But though they rejoiced in the nest they kept,

One had to be versed in country things

Not to believe the phoebes wept.

Let Me Live Out My Years

Listen to: 

Let Me Live Out My Years (:55)

by John G. Neihardt 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Let me live out my years in heat of blood!

Let me die drunken with the dreamer’s wine!

Let me not see this soul-house built of mud

Go toppling to the dust—a vacant shrine.

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Let me go quickly, like a candle light

Snuffed out just at the heyday of its glow.

Give me high noon—and let it then be night!

Thus would I go.

And grant that when I face the grisly Thing,

My song may trumpet down the gray Perhaps.

Let me be as a tune-swept fiddlestring

That feels the Master Melody—and snaps!

In the Subway

Listen to: 

In the Subway (1:04)

by Louis Untermeyer 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Chaos is tamed and ordered as we ride;

The rock is rent, the darkness flung aside

And all the horrors of the deep defied.

A coil of wires, a throb, a sudden spark—

And on a screaming meteor we embark

That hurls us past the cold and breathless dark.

The centuries disclose their secret graves—

Riding in splendor through a world of waves

The ancient elements become our slaves.

Uncanny fancies whisper to and fro;

Terror and Night surround us here below,

And through the house of Death we come and go...

And here, oh wildest glimpse of all, I see

The score of men and women facing me

Reading their papers calmly, leisurely.

Epigram & The Moon

As the links to the audio of these two poem recitations failed to appear in the last post, I am posting them here:

Epigram by Ernest Dowson

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Because I am idolatrous and have besought,
With grievous supplication and consuming prayer,
The admirable image that my dreams have wrought
Out of her swan's neck and her dark, abundant hair:
The jealous gods, who brook no worship save their own, 

Turned my live idol marble and her heart to stone. 

and

The Moon by Robert Louis Stevenson

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

    The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;

    She shines on thieves on the garden wall,

    On streets and fields and harbor quays,

    And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

    The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,

    The howling dog by the door of the house,

    The bat that lies in bed at noon,

    All love to be out by the light of the moon.

    But all of the things that belong to the day

    Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;

    And flowers and children close their eyes

    Till up in the morning the sun shall rise.

The Moon

Listen to: 

The Moon (:53)

by Robert Louis Stevenson 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

    The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;

    She shines on thieves on the garden wall,

    On streets and fields and harbor quays,

    And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

    The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,

    The howling dog by the door of the house,

    The bat that lies in bed at noon,

    All love to be out by the light of the moon.

    But all of the things that belong to the day

    Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;

    And flowers and children close their eyes

    Till up in the morning the sun shall rise.

Epigram

Listen to: 

Epigram (:34)

by Ernest Dowson 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Because I am idolatrous and have besought,
With grievous supplication and consuming prayer,
The admirable image that my dreams have wrought
Out of her swan's neck and her dark, abundant hair:
The jealous gods, who brook no worship save their own, 

Turned my live idol marble and her heart to stone. 

Some Geese

Listen to:

Some Geese (:38)

by Oliver Herford 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Every child who has the use
Of his senses knows a goose.
See them underneath the tree
Gather round the goose-girl's knee,
While she reads them by the hour
From the works of Schopenhauer.

How patiently the geese attend!
But do they really comprehend
What Schopenhauer's driving at?
Oh, not at all; but what of that?
Neither do I; neither does she;
And, for that matter, nor does he.