1. |
Practice Your Flamenco
05:32
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2. |
Silver Apples: The Moon
03:05
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The Moon
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
She shines on thieves on the garden wall,
On streets and fields and harbour quays,
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.
The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,
The howling dog by the door of the house,
The bat that lies in bed at noon,
All love to be out by the light of the moon.
But all of the things that belong to the day
Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;
And flowers and children close their eyes
Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.
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3. |
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Eldorado
poem by Edgar Allen Poe
Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.
But he grew old
This knight so bold
And o'er his heart a shadow
Fell as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.
And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow
"Shadow," said he,
"Where can it be
This land of Eldorado?"
"Over the Mountains
Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied
"If you seek for Eldorado!"
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4. |
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The Cat and The Moon
poem by William Butler Yeats
The cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin to the moon,
The creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For, wander and wail as he would,
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two close kindred meet.
What better than call a dance?
Maybe the moon may learn,
Tired of that courtly fashion,
A new dance turn.
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
From moonlit place to place,
The sacred moon overhead
Has taken a new phase.
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon
His changing eyes.
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5. |
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6. |
for Love: Kore
04:02
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7. |
for Love: The Rain
03:09
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8. |
for Love: Water Music
01:26
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9. |
Seven Songs: The Return
02:13
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The Return
Poem by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
He went, and he was gay to go;
And I smiled on him as he went.
My son, ‘twas well he couldn’t know
My darkest dread, nor what it meant —
Just what it meant to smile and smile
And let my son go cheerily —
My son … and wondering all the while
What stranger would come back to me.
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10. |
Seven Songs: The Going
02:43
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The Going
Poem by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
R.B.
He’s gone.
I do not understand.
I only know
That as he turned to go
And waved his hand,
In his young eyes a sudden glory shone,
And I was dazzled with a sunset glow,
And he was gone.
23rd April 1915
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11. |
Seven Songs: Breakfast
01:13
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Breakfast
Poem by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
We ate our breakfast lying on our backs,
Because the shells were screeching overhead.
I bet a rasher to a loaf of bread
That Hull United would beat Halifax
When Jimmy Strainthorpe played full-back instead
Of Billy Bradford. Ginger raised his head
And cursed, and took the bet; and dropt back dead.
We ate our breakfast lying on our backs,
Because the shells were screeching overhead.
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12. |
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All Being Well
Poem by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
All being well, I’ll come to you,
Sweetheart, before the year is through;
And we shall find so much to do,
So much to tell.
I read your letter through and through,
And dreamt of all we’d say and do,
Till in my heart the thought of you
Rang like a bell.
Now the bell tolls, my love, for you;
For long before the year is through
You’ve gone where there is naught to do
And naught to tell.
Yet mayn’t I find when life is through
The best is still to say and do,
When I at last may come to you,
All being well?
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13. |
Seven Songs: Long Tom
03:12
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Long Tom
Poem by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
He talked of Delhi brothels half the night,
Quaking with fever; And then, dragging tight
The frowsy blankets to his chattering chin,
Cursed for an hour because they were so thin
And nothing would keep out the gnawing cold –
Scarce forty years of age, and yet so old,
Haggard and worn with burning eyes set deep –
Until at last he cursed himself asleep.
Before I’d shut my eyes reveille came;
And as I dressed by the one candle-flame
The mellow golden light fell on his face
Still sleeping, touching it to tender grace,
Rounding the features life had scarred so deep,
Till youth came back to him in quiet sleep:
And then what women saw in him I knew
And why they’d loved him all his brief life through.
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14. |
Seven Songs: Back
02:50
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Back
Poem by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
They ask me where I’ve been,
And what I’ve done and seen,
But what can I reply
Who know it wasn’t I,
But someone just like me,
Who went across the sea
And with my head and hands
Killed men in foreign lands…
Though I must bear the blame
Because he bore my name.
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15. |
Seven Songs: Lament
02:55
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Lament
Poem by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
We who are left, how shall we look again
Happily upon the sun or feel the rain,
Without remembering how they who went
Ungrudgingly, and spent
Their all for us, loved too the sun and rain?
A bird among the rain-wet lilac sings –
But we, how shall we turn to little things,
And listen to the birds and winds and streams
Made holy by their dreams,
Nor feel the heart-break at the heart of things?
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20. |
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Ann Moss California
I'm a vocalist, teaching artist, and champion of contemporary composition. My artistic mission is to lift up new and contemporary vocal literature to serve as narrative for the hard to speak about issues of our times. I perform and collaborate with a dynamic array of composers, chamber ensembles and orchestras. ... more
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