No Second Troy

Listen to:

No Second Troy (:50)

by William Butler Yeats 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late

Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great,
Had they but courage equal to desire?

What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,

With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind

That is not natural in an age like this,

Being high and solitary and most stern?

Why, what could she have done being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?

Michael Robartes bids his Beloved be at Peace

Listen to:

Michael Robartes bids his Beloved be at Peace (1:15)

by William Butler Yeats 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

I hear the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake,

Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white;

The North unfolds above them clinging, creeping night,

The East her hidden joy before the morning break,

The West weeps in pale dew and sighs passing away,

The South is pouring down roses of crimson fire:

O vanity of Sleep, Hope, Dream, endless Desire,

The Horses of Disaster plunge in the heavy clay:

Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat

Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast,

Drowning love’s lonely hour in deep twilight of rest,

And hiding their tossing manes and their tumultuous feet.

from The Wind Among the Reeds (1899)

Michael Robartes Remembers Forgotten Beauty

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Michael Robartes Remembers Forgotten Beauty (1:24)

by William Butler Yeats 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

When my arms wrap you round I press

My heart upon the loveliness

That has long faded from the world;

The jewelled crowns that kings have hurled

In shadowy pools, when armies fled;

The love-tales wove with silken thread

By dreaming ladies upon cloth

That has made fat the murderous moth;

The roses that of old time were

Woven by ladies in their hair,

The dew-cold lilies ladies bore 

Through many a sacred corridor

Where such gray clouds of incense rose

That only the gods' eyes did not close:

For that pale breast and lingering hand

Come from a more dream-heavy land,

A more dream-heavy hour than this;

And when you sigh from kiss to kiss

I hear white Beauty sighing, too,

For hours when all must fade like dew

But flame on flame, deep under deep,

Throne over throne, where in half sleep

Their swords upon their iron knees

Brood her high lonely mysteries.

(from The Wind Among the Reeds)

The Poet Pleads with His Friend For Old Friends

W.B. Yeats in 1908

Listen to:

The Poet Pleads with His Friend For Old Friends (:36)

by William Butler Yeats 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Though you are in your shining days,

Voices among the crowd

And new friends busy with your praise,

Be not unkind or proud,

But think about old friends the most:

Time's bitter flood will rise,

Your beauty perish and be lost

For all eyes but these eyes.

(from The Wind Among the Reeds)

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.