Eternity

Listen to:

Eternity

by William Blake

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

He who binds to himself a joy

Does the winged life destroy;

He who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in eternity’s sunrise.

The Conqueror Worm

Listen to:

The Conqueror Worm

by Edgar Allan Poe

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Lo! ’t is a gala night

   Within the lonesome latter years!  

An angel throng, bewinged, bedight

   In veils, and drowned in tears,  

Sit in a theatre, to see

   A play of hopes and fears,

While the orchestra breathes fitfully  

   The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,  

   Mutter and mumble low,

And hither and thither fly—

   Mere puppets they, who come and go  

At bidding of vast formless things

   That shift the scenery to and fro,

Flapping from out their Condor wings

   Invisible Wo!

That motley drama—oh, be sure  

   It shall not be forgot!

With its Phantom chased for evermore  

   By a crowd that seize it not,

Through a circle that ever returneth in  

   To the self-same spot,

And much of Madness, and more of Sin,  

   And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout,

   A crawling shape intrude!

A blood-red thing that writhes from out  

   The scenic solitude!

It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs  

The mimes become its food,

And seraphs sob at vermin fangs

   In human gore imbued.

Out—out are the lights—out all!  

   And, over each quivering form,

The curtain, a funeral pall,

   Comes down with the rush of a storm,  

While the angels, all pallid and wan,  

   Uprising, unveiling, affirm

That the play is the tragedy, “Man,”  

   And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.

To His Coy Mistress

Listen to:

To His Coy Mistress

by Andrew Marvell

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

 

Had we but world enough, and time,

This coyness, Lady, were no crime     

We would sit down and think which way

To walk and pass our long love's day.

Thou by the Indian Ganges' side                 

Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide      

Of Humber would complain. I would 

Love you ten years before the Flood,  

And you should, if you please, refuse 

Till the conversion of the Jews.            

My vegetable love should grow          

Vaster than empires, and more slow;  

An hundred years should go to praise

Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze; 

Two hundred to adore each breast,       

But thirty thousand to the rest;           

An age at least to every part,   

And the last age should show your heart.

For, Lady, you deserve this state,        

Nor would I love at lower rate.           

 

  But at my back I always hear

Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near; 

And yonder all before us lie   

Deserts of vast eternity.          

Thy beauty shall no more be found,     

Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound  

My echoing song: then worms shall try

That long preserved virginity, 

And your quaint honour turn to dust, 

And into ashes all my lust:       

The grave 's a fine and private place,   

But none, I think, do there embrace.   

  Now therefore, while the youthful hue

Sits on thy skin like morning dew,     

And while thy willing soul transpires 

At every pore with instant fires,          

Now let us sport us while we may,     

And now, like amorous birds of prey, 

Rather at once our time devour           

Than languish in his slow-chapt power.

Let us roll all our strength and all       

Our sweetness up into one ball,          

And tear our pleasures with rough strife

Thorough the iron gates of life:          

Thus, though we cannot make our sun

Stand still, yet we will make him run. 

Rubai (Quatrains) from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

Listen to:

Rubai from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

 Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring

 Your Winter garment of Repentance fling:

   The Bird of Time has but a little way

 To flutter--and the Bird is on the Wing.

 Whether at Naishapur or Babylon,

 Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,

   The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,

 The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.

Ah, my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears

Today of past Regrets and future Fears:

    Tomorrow!--Why, Tomorrow I may be

Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.

 Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;

Tomorrow’s Silence, Triumph, or Despair:

   Drink! for you not know whence you came, nor why:

 Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

Seize the Day

Listen to:

Ode 11 from Book 1

by Horace

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Seek not to know, Leuconöe,

The death that waits both you and me –

            The gods forbid such quest;

Don’t go and talk with gypsies old,

And try to get your fortune told;

            Let’s take things for the best.

Perchance we long shall feel the blast,

Perhaps this wintry gale’s our last;

            Be wise, and drink—don’t bother;

E’en as we speak Time’s flying on,

So seize the day before it’s gone;

            We may not have another.