The Roundel

Listen to:

The Roundel (:56)

by Algernon Charles Swinburne

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Algernon Charles Swindburne was born this day in 1837

A roundel is wrought as a ring or a starbright sphere,

      With craft of delight and with cunning of sound unsought,

That the heart of the hearer may smile if to pleasure his ear

      A roundel is wrought.

Its jewel of music is carven of all or of aught—

      Love, laughter, or mourning—remembrance of rapture or fear—

That fancy may fashion to hang in the ear of thought.

As a bird's quick song runs round, and the hearts in us hear

      Pause answer to pause, and again the same strain caught,

So moves the device whence, round as a pearl or tear,

      A roundel is wrought.

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.

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 Thrush in the Moonlight

Listen to:

A Thrush in the Moonlight (:53)

by Witter Bynner

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

In came the moon and covered me with wonder,
Touched me and was near me and made me very still.
In came a rush of song, like rain after thunder,
Pouring importunate on my window-sill.

I lowered my head, I hid it, I would not see nor hear,
The birdsong had stricken me, had brought the moon too near.
But when I dared to lift my head, night began to fill
With singing in the darkness. And then the thrush grew still.
  And the moon came in, and silence, on my window-sill.

A Pinch of Salt

Listen to:

A Pinch of Salt (1:05)

by Robert Graves

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

A PINCH OF SALT

When a dream is born in you
With a sudden clamorous pain,
When you know the dream is true
And lovely, with no flaw nor stain,
O then, be careful, or with sudden clutch

You'll hurt the delicate thing you prize so much.
Dreams are like a bird that mocks,
Flirting the feathers of his tail.
When you seize at the salt-box
Over the hedge you'll see him sail.

Old birds are neither caught with salt nor chaff:
They watch you from the apple bough and laugh.

Poet, never chase the dream.
Laugh yourself and turn away.
Mask your hunger, let it seem

Small matter if he come or stay;

But when he nestles in your hand at last,
Close up your fingers tight and hold him fast.