I. New York
Poet: Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933)
Faces
People that I meet and pass
In the city's broken roar,
Faces that I lose so soon
And have never found before,
Do you know how much you tell
In the meeting of our eyes,
How ashamed I am, and sad
To have pierced your poor disguise?
Secrets rushing without sound
Crying from your hiding places—
Let me go, I cannot bear
The sorrow of the passing faces.
—People in the restless street,
Can it be, oh can it be
In the meeting of our eyes
That you know as much of me?
In a Railroad Station
We stood in the shrill electric light,
Dumb and sick in the whirling din
We who had all of love to say
And a single second to say it in.
"Good-by!" "Good-by!"—you turned to go,
I felt the train's slow heavy start,
You thought to see me cry, but oh
My tears were hidden in my heart.
Peace
Peace flows into me
As the tide to the pool by the shore;
It is mine forevermore,
It ebbs not back like the sea.
I am the pool of blue
That worships the vivid sky;
My hopes were heaven-high,
They are all fulfilled in you.
I am the pool of gold
When sunset burns and dies, —
You are my deepening skies,
Give me your stars to hold.
The Old Maid
I saw her in a Broadway car,
The woman I might grow to be;
I felt my lover look at her
And then turn suddenly to me.
Her hair was dull and drew no light
And yet its color was as mine;
Her eyes were strangely like my eyes
Tho' love had never made them shine.
Her body was a thing grown thin,
Hungry for love that never came;
Her soul was frozen in the dark
Unwarmed forever by love's flame.
I felt my lover look at her
And then turn suddenly to me, —
His eyes were magic to defy
The woman I shall never be.
II. To the Road
Poet: Paul Laurence Dunbar (June 27, 1872 – February 9, 1906)
To the Road
Cool is the wind, for the summer is waning,
Who's for the road?
Sun-flecked and soft, where the dead leaves are raining,
Who's for the road?
Knapsack and alpenstock press hand and shoulder,
Prick of the brier and roll of the boulder;
This be your lot till the season grow older;
Who's for the road?
Up and away in the hush of the morning,
Who's for the road?
Vagabond he, all conventions a-scorning,
Who's for the road?
Music of warblers so merrily singing,
Draughts from the rill from the roadside up-springing,
Nectar of grapes from the vines lowly swinging,
These on the road.
Now every house is a hut or a hovel,
Come to the road:
Mankind and moles in the dark love to grovel,
But to the road.
Throw off the loads that are bending you double;
Love is for life, only labor is trouble;
Truce to the town, whose best gift is a bubble:
Come to the road!
Dawn
An angel, robed in spotless white,
Bent down and kissed the sleeping Night.
Night woke to blush; the sprite was gone.
Men saw the blush and called it Dawn.
A Song
Thou art the soul of a summer's day,
Thou art the breath of the rose.
But the summer is fled
And the rose is dead;
Where are they gone, who knows?
Thou art the blood of my heart o' hearts,
Thou art my soul's repose
But my heart grows numb
And my soul is dumb;
Where art thou, love, who knows?
Thou art the hope of my after years --
Sun for my winter snows;
But the years go by
`Neath a clouded sky.
Where shall we meet, who knows?
The Debt
This is the debt I pay
Just for one riotous day,
Years of regret and grief,
Sorrow without relief.
Pay it I will to the end —
Until the grave, my friend,
Gives me a true release —
Gives me the clasp of peace.
Slight was the thing I bought,
Small was the debt I thought,
Poor was the loan at best —
God! but the interest!
Remember Me As I Was Then
Poet: Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933)
The Kiss
I hoped that he would love me,
And he has kissed my mouth,
But I am like a stricken bird
That cannot reach the south.
For though I know he loves me,
To-night my heart is sad;
His kiss was not so wonderful
As all the dreams I had.
After Love
There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.
You were the wind and I the sea—
There is no splendor any more,
I have grown listless as the pool
Beside the shore.
But though the pool is safe from storm
And from the tide has found surcease,
It grows more bitter than the sea,
For all its peace.
The Look
Strephon kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.
Strephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day.
Gifts
I gave my first love laughter,
I gave my second tears,
I gave my third love silence
Through all the years.
My first love gave me singing,
My second eyes to see,
But oh, it was my third love
Who gave my soul to me.
Let It Be You
Let it be you who lean above me
On my last day,
Let it be you who shut my eyelids
Forever and aye.
Say a 'Good-night' as you have said it
All of these years,
With the old look, with the old whisper
All without tears.
You will know then all that in silence
You always knew,
Though I have loved, I loved no other
As I love you.
Change
Remember me as I was then;
Turn from me now, but always see
The laughing shadowy girl who stood
At midnight by the flowering tree,
With eyes that love had made as bright
As the trembling stars of the summer night.
Turn from me now, but always hear
The muted laughter in the dew
Of that one year of youth we had,
The only youth we ever knew—
Turn from me now, or you will see
What other years have done to me.
IV. Music for Treble Voices; Princeton Girlchoir Semi-Tones
Animal Imagination
Text by Lucy Jones (5th Grade)
If I were a dragon and lived in a cave.
I’d be such a fierce dragon I’d roar and I’d rave!
Bullies wouldn’t bother me, I’d dip them in punch!
Neither would homework – I’d eat it for lunch!
Or if I was a lion, and lived on the plains.
Nothing would scare me, not the quakes or the rains.
I’d hunt herds of zebra and watch the cubs play
Or maybe I’d act lazy…And lay around all day.
Could I be a Kiwi and hop on the ground?
Then sleep in my nest all safe and all sound.
Because I am me, I know that I could be
Any animal that blesses the land!
Imagination is so grand!
Pié Jesu
Ancient Liturgical Text
Pié Jesu, dona eis requiem.
Pié Jesu domine.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi.
Pié Jesu, dona eis requiem sempiternam.
Translation:
Merciful Jesus, give them rest.
Merciful Jesus, Lord.
Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world,
Merciful Jesus, grant them eternal rest.
We All Smile in the Same Language
Text by: Tom T. Shelton, Jr., San Juan de la Cruz (1542-1591), Santa Teresa de Jesus (1515 – 1582)
We all smile in the same language,
we all share the same hopes and dreams
Joining voices, we’re united,
music weaves a tapestry, dreams come true if you believe,
hand in hand we are one in unity, we embrace our diversity.
Where there is no love, you must plant a seed,
sow love and it will grow.
It’s love , love alone that gives worth to all things,
Open your heart let it flow.
One Voice
Text by: Tom T. Shelton, Jr. and Maribeth Yoder-White
One voice in the darkness.
One single voice searching for truth.
A voice that’s filled with light and love.
This is my voice reaching for you.
So be a light to those who need help along the way.
Let kindness and compassion be your guide.
Be a light to all. Let your voice ring lout and strong.
Show the way, every day.
Voices shining in the dark.
We join as one offering hope.
A voice for those in pain and need.
Hear my voice singing for you.
It takes just one voice shining in the dark.
V. Selected Choral Music featuring Rider University Chorale
The Bee
Poetry by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
Like trains of cars on tracks of plush
I hear the level bee:
A jar across the flowers goes,
Their velvet masonry
Withstands until the sweet assault
Their chivalry consumes,
While he, victorious, tilts away
To vanquish other blooms.
His feet are shod with gauze,
His helmet is of gold;
His breast, a single onyx
With chrysoprase, inlaid.
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee’s experience
Of clovers and of noon!
Echo
Poetry by Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.
Oh dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again tho’ cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low,
As long ago, my love, how long ago.
Serre-moi plus fort
Poetry by Sabine Sicaud (1913-1928)
Ne parle pas d’absence, toi qui ne sais pas.
Mets seulement ta joue contre la mienne.
As-tu jamais interrogé la porte qui doit s’ouvrir pour le retour
et désespéré…?
As-tu jamais, au petit jour, songé qu’on pourrait
ne plus se revoir peut-être et imaginé ?…
Serre-moi plus fort.
Nos deux ombres séparées, que deviendraient-elles ?
Translation:
Don’t talk about absence, you who don’t know.
Just lay your cheek against mine.
Have you ever questioned the door that must open for the return
And despaired…?
Haveyou ever, at dawn, thought that we could
Maybe never see each other and imagine?
Hold me tighter.
Our two separated shadows, what would become of them?
Go Down, Moses
African American Spiritual
When Israel was in Egypt land.
Let my people go!
Oppressed so hard, they could not stand.
Let my people go!
Go down Moses,
Way down in Egypt’s land.
Tell old Pharaoh,
To let my people go!
“Thus saith the Lord” bold Moses said:
Let my people go!
“If not I’ll smite your firstborn dead,”
Let my people go!
No more shall they in bondage toil,
Let them come out of Egypt’s spoil,
Let my people go!
