What Riches Have You

Listen to:

What Riches Have You (:59)

  by George Santayana  

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

SONNET 29

                                                            

What riches have you that you deem me poor,

Or what large comfort that you call me sad?

Tell me what makes you so exceeding glad:

Is your earth happy or your heaven sure?

I hope for heaven, since the stars endure

And bring such tidings as our fathers had.

I know no deeper doubt to make me mad,

I need no brighter love to keep me pure.

To me the faiths of old are daily bread;

I bless their hope, I bless their will to save,

 And my deep heart still meaneth what they said.

It makes me happy that the soul is brave,

And, being so much kinsman to the dead,

I walk contented to the peopled grave.

The Galaxy

Listen to:

The Galaxy (1:01)

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

      Torrent of light and river of the air,

      Along whose bed the glimmering stars are seen

      Like gold and silver sands in some ravine

      Where mountain streams have left their channels bare!

      The Spaniard sees in thee the pathway, where

      His patron saint descended in the sheen

      Of his celestial armor, on serene

      And quiet nights, when all the heavens were fair.

      Not this I see, nor yet the ancient fable

      Of Phaeton's wild course, that scorched the skies

      Wherever the hoofs of his hot coursers trod;

      But the white drift of worlds o'er chasms of sable,

      The star-dust, that is whirled aloft and flies

      From the invisible chariot-wheels of God.

From Fairest Creatures

Portrait of Sir John Scott

Listen to:

From Fairest Creatures (1:06)

by William Shakespeare 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Sonnet I

From fairest creatures we desire increase,

That thereby beauty's rose might never die,

But as the riper should by time decease,

His tender heir might bear his memory:

But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes,

Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,

Making a famine where abundance lies,

Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:

Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament,

And only herald to the gaudy spring,

Within thine own bud buriest thy content,

And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding:

Pity the world, or else this glutton be,

To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.

How Can My Muse

Painting by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema

Listen to:

How Can My Muse (1:03)

by William Shakespeare 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

XXXVIII.

How can my muse want subject to invent,

While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse

Thine own sweet argument, too excellent

For every vulgar paper to rehearse?

O! give thy self the thanks, if aught in me

Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;

For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,

When thou thy self dost give invention light?

Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth

Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;

And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth

Eternal numbers to outlive long date.

If my slight muse do please these curious days,

The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.

I Strode Along My Beaches

Listen to:

 I Strode Along My Beaches (:59)

by Wallace Stevens 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Sonnet

'I strode along my beaches...'

John Morris 2nd pseud.

Havard Monthly, XXVIII, 5, Jul 1899, 188 Not found online

I strode along my beaches like a sea,

The sand before me stretching firm and fair;

No inland darkness cast its shadow there

And my long step was gloriously free.

The careless wind was happy company

That hurried past and did not question where;

Yet as I moved I felt a deep despair

And wonder of the thoughts that came to me.

For to my face the deep wind brought the scent

Of flowers I could not see upon the strand;

And in the sky a silent cloud was blent

With dreams of my soul's stillness; and the sand,

That had been naught to me, now trembled far

In mystery beneath the evening star.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Fulfilment

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Fulfilment (1:00)

by Paul Laurence Dunbar 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

  I grew a rose once more to please mine eyes.

  All things to aid it--dew, sun, wind, fair skies--

  Were kindly; and to shield it from despoil,

  I fenced it safely in with grateful toil.

  No other hand than mine shall pluck this flower, said I,

  And I was jealous of the bee that hovered nigh.

  It grew for days; I stood hour after hour

  To watch the slow unfolding of the flower,

  And then I did not leave its side at all,

  Lest some mischance my flower should befall.

  At last, oh joy! the central petals burst apart.

  It blossomed--but, alas! a worm was at its heart!

Promise

Listen to:

Promise (:53)

by Paul Laurence Dunbar 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

  I grew a rose within a garden fair,

  And, tending it with more than loving care,

  I thought how, with the glory of its bloom,

  I should the darkness of my life illume;

  And, watching, ever smiled to see the lusty bud

  Drink freely in the summer sun to tinct its blood.

  My rose began to open, and its hue

  Was sweet to me as to it sun and dew;

  I watched it taking on its ruddy flame

  Until the day of perfect blooming came,

  Then hasted I with smiles to find it blushing red--

  Too late! Some thoughtless child had plucked my rose and fled!

There Shines the Morning Star

Listen to:

There Shines the Morning Star (:58)

by Wallace Stevens 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

There shines the morning star! Through the forlorn

  And silent spaces of cold heaven's height

  Pours the bright radiance of his kingly light,

Swinging in revery before the morn.

The flush and fall of many tides have worn

  Upon the coasts beneath him, in their flight

  From sea to sea ; yet ever on the night

His clear and splendid visage is upborne.

Like this he pondered on the world's first day,

  Sweet Eden's flowers heavy with the dew;

And so he led bold Jason on his way

    Sparkling forever in the galley's foam;

  And still he shone most perfect in the blue,

    All bright and lovely on the hosts of Rome.

First published in The Harvard Advocate, LXVII, 2, 10 Apr 1899 

Why Should Your Fair Eyes

Listen to:

Why Should Your Fair Eyes (1:04)

by Michael Drayton  

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Why should your fair eyes with such sovereign grace 

Disperse their rays on every vulgar spirit, 

Whilst I in darkness in the self-same place 

Get not one glance to recompense my merit? 

So doth the ploughman gaze the wandering star, 

And only rest contented with the light, 

That never learned what constellations are, 

Beyond the bent of his unknowing sight, 

O! why should beauty, custom to obey, 

To their gross sense apply herself so ill? 

Would God I were as ignorant as they, 

When I am made unhappy by my skill; 

Only compelled on this poor good to boast, 

Heavens are not kind to them that know them most. 

To Hope

Listen to:

To Hope (1:14)

by Charlotte Smith 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Oh, Hope! thou soother sweet of human woes!
    How shall I lure thee to my haunts forlorn!
For me wilt thou renew the wither’d rose,
    And clear my painful path of pointed thorn?
Ah come, sweet nymph! in smiles and softness drest,
    Like the young hours that lead the tender year,
Enchantress! come, and charm my cares to rest:—
    Alas! the flatterer flies, and will not hear!
A prey to fear, anxiety, and pain,
    Must I a sad existence still deplore?
Lo!—the flowers fade, but all the thorns remain,
    “For me the vernal garland blooms no more.”
Come then, “pale Misery’s love!” be thou my cure,
And I will bless thee, who, tho’ slow, art sure.

Sonnet: "Lo, Even As I Passed"

Listen to:

Lo, Even As I Passed (:58)

by Wallace Stevens 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Lo, even as I passed beside the booth

Of roses, and beheld them brightly twine

To damask heights, taking them as a sign

Of my own self still unconcerned with truth;

Even as I held up in hands uncouth

And drained with joy the golden-bodied wine,

Deeming it half-unworthy, half divine,

From out the sweet-rimmed goblet of my youth.

Even in that pure hour I heard the tone

Of grievous music stir in memory,

Telling me of the time already flown

From my first youth. It sounded like the rise

Of distant echo from dead melody,

Soft as a song heard far in Paradise.

Sonnet: "If we are leaves that fall"

Listen to:

Sonnet: "If we are leaves that fall" (:55)

by Wallace Stevens 

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

If we are leaves that fall upon the ground

To lose our greenness in the quiet dust

Of forest-depths; if we are flowers that must

Lie torn and creased upon a bitter mound,

No touch of sweetness in our ruins found;

If we are weeds whom no one wise can trust

To live an hour before we feel the gust

Of Death, and by our side its last, keen sound;

Then let a tremor through our briefness run,

Wrapping it in with mad, sweet sorcery

Of love; for in the fern I saw the sun

Take fire against the dew; the lily white

Was soft and deep at morn; the rosary

Streamed forth a wild perfume into the light.

First published in:

The Harvard Monthly, XXVIII (Mar. 1899)

The Prairie Town

Listen to:

The Prairie Town (1:05)

by Helen Hooven Santmyer

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Lovers of beauty laugh at this grey town,
     Where dust lies thick on ragged curb-side trees,
And compass-needle streets lead up and down
     And lose themselves in empty prairie seas.

Here is no winding scented lane, no hill
     Crowned with a steepled church, no garden wall
Of old grey stone where lilacs bloom, and fill
     The air with fragrance when the May rains fall.

But here is the unsoftened majesty
     Of the wide earth where all the wide streets end,
And from the dusty corner one may see
     The full moon rise, and flaming sun descend.

The long main street, whence farmers’ teams go forth,
Lies like an old sea road, star-pointed north.

The Flight

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The Flight (:58)

by Lloyd Mifflin

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Upon a cloud among the stars we stood.

The angel raised his hand and looked and said,

"Which world, of all yon starry myriad

Shall we make wing to?" The still solitude

Became a harp whereon his voice and mood

Made spheral music round his haloed head.

I spake—for then I had not long been dead—

"Let me look round upon the vasts, and brood

A moment on these orbs ere I decide ...

What is yon lower star that beauteous shines

And with soft splendor now incarnadines

Our wings?—There would I go and there abide."

He smiled as one who some child's thought divines:

"That is the world where yesternight you died."