Saturday, August 30, 2014

With Thee Conversing - A.D. Hope (1907 - 2000)

Sign on the side of the road leading into my hometown - Barrett Road, Vernon, NJ
Talking with you each day would seem
To pass unnoticed into night,
And, borne on that enchanted stream,
Time but its pulse of dark and light;

And even busied or apart,
I feel the currents restless sweep:
A conversation fills my heart,
Or voices answer in my sleep.

Nor does it move by words alone,
Beneath our smiles, our talk, beneath
All words, a colloquy goes on
Which runs as strong and still as death.

Where did it rise, that mighty flow
On which chance travelers, we embark?
What cordilleras feed with snow
Its cataracts raging through the dark,

I can not guess, nor yet foresee
What hour the flood, as we descend,
Will turn and sweep us to the sea
In which all rivers have their end.

Talking with you, I cease to care
Where the springs rise and where they flow;
The goal of all my search is here,
And here my everlasting Now. 

Ten years ago, I sang David Evan Thomas's setting of this poem. It popped into my head this morning, and I was again stunned by the beauty of the lines. I'm going to have to program this set (Grace &Stir: Three Poems by A.D. Hope) again in the near future.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Nothing Gold Can Stay - Robert Frost (1894-1963)

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So Dawn goes down to day,
Nothing gold can stay.

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

I am not yours - Sara Teasdale (1884 - 1933)



I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind. 



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One of the perks of my new position is listening to choral music, and sometimes you come across a composer you never heard of who captures the music innate within one of your favorite poets. 
I Am Not Yours - Z. Randall Stroope