Ives Birthday Songfest 2/26/24

2. Evening

Xiao Liu, soprano

Now came still Evening on, and Twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad;
Silence accompanied; for [beast] and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale;
She all night long her amorous descant sung;
Silence [was] pleased.... 

— John Milton (1608–1674)

10. Charlie Rutlage

Coshel Caudill, baritone

Another good cowpuncher has gone to meet his fate,
I hope he'll find a resting place, within the golden gate.
Another place is vacant on the ranch of the X I T,
'Twill be hard to find another that's liked as well as he.

The first that died was Kid White, a man both tough and brave,
While Charlie Rutlage makes the third to be sent to his grave,
Caused by a cowhorse falling, while running after stock;
'Twas on the spring round up, a place where death men mock,

He went forward one morning on a circle through the hills,
He was gay and full of glee, and free from earthly ills;
But when it came to finish up the work on which he went,
Nothing came back from him; his time on earth was spent.

'Twas as he rode the round up, a XIT turned back to the herd;
Poor Charlie shoved him in again, his cutting horse he spurred;
Another turned; at that moment his horse the creature spied 
And turned and fell with him; beneath, poor Charlie died.

His relations in Texas his face never more will see,
But I hope he'll meet his loved ones beyond in eternity.
I hope he'll meet his parents, will meet them face to face,
And that they'll grasp him by the right hand at the shining throne of grace.

— John Avery Lomax (1867–1948)

15. The Housatonic at Stockbridge

Anabella Petronsi, mezzo-soprano

Contented river! In thy dreamy realm
The cloudy willow and the plumy elm:
Thou beautiful!
From ev'ry dreamy hill
what eye but wanders with thee at thy will,
Contented river!
And yet over-shy 
To mask thy beauty from the eager eye;
Hast thou a thought to hide from field and town?
In some deep current of the sunlit brown
Ah! there's a restive ripple,
And the swift red leaves
September's firstlings faster drift;
Wouldst thou away, dear stream?
Come, whisper near! 
I also of much resting have a fear:
Let me tomorrow thy companion be, 
By fall and shallow to the adventurous sea!

— Robert Underwood Johnson (1858–1937)

26. Like a Sick Eagle

Ava Gilley, mezzo soprano

My spirit is too weak; mortality 
Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,
And each imagined pinnacle and steep
Of godlike hardship tells me I must die,
Like a sick eagle looking towards the sky.
Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep,
That I have not the cloudy winds to keep
Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
Such dim-conceived glories of the brain
Bring round the heart an indescribable feud;
So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,
That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude
Wasting of old Time - with a billowy main,
A sun, a shadow of a magnitude.

— John Keats (1795–1821)

42. Serenity

Anabella Petronsi, mezzo-soprano

O, Sabbath rest of Galilee!
O, calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee,
the silence of eternity
Interpreted by love.
Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
till all our strivings cease:
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
and let our ordered lives confess,
the beauty of thy peace.

— John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892)

43. The Things Our Fathers Loved

Marlon Haughton, baritone

I think there must be a place in the soul
all made of tunes, of tunes of long ago;
I hear the organ on the Main Street corner,
Aunt Sarah humming Gospels;  Summer evenings,
The village cornet band, playing in the square.
The town's Red, White and Blue,
all Red, White and Blue; Now! Hear the songs! 
I know not what are the words
But they sing in my soul of the things our Fathers loved.

— Charles Edward Ives (1874–1954)

45. At the River

Roman Wentzel, baritone

Shall we gather [by] the river,
Where bright angels' feet have trod,
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?

Yes, we'll gather [by] the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river,
[Gather with the saints by the river]
That flows by the throne of God.

Ere we reach the shining river
Lay we every burden down,
Praise our spirits will deliver
And provide our robe and crown.

Yes, we'll gather at the river.
The beautiful, the beautiful, river.
Gather with the saints at the river,
That flows by the throne of God.

Soon we'll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease,
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace.

Yes, we'll gather by the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river,
Gather with the saints by the river
That flows by the throne of God.

— Robert Lowry (1826–1899)

51. Tom Sails Away

Dana Carlson-Kottke, soprano

Scenes from my childhood are with me,
I'm in the lot behind our house upon the hill,
A spring day's sun is setting,
mother with Tom in her arms
is coming towards the garden;
the lettuce rows are showing green.
Thinner grows the smoke o'er the town,
stronger comes the breeze from the ridge,
'Tis after six, the whistles have blown,
the milk train's gone down the valley
Daddy is coming up the hill from the mill,
We run down the lane to meet him
But today! In freedom's cause Tom sailed away
for over there, over there!
Scenes from my childhood 
are floating before my eyes.

— Charles Edward Ives

56. Circus Band

Greg Smith, tenor

All summer long, we boys
dreamed 'bout big circus joys!
Down Main street, comes the band, 
Oh! "Ain't it a grand and glorious noise!"

Horses are prancing, knights advancing;
Helmets gleaming, pennants streaming,
Cleopatra's on her throne!
That golden hair is all her own.

Where is the lady all in pink?
Last year she waved to me I think,
Can she have died? Can! that! rot!
She is passing but she sees me not.

— Charles Edward Ives

64. The Cage

Ava Gilley, mezzo-soprano

A leopard went around his cage
from one side back to the other side;
he stopped only when the keeper came around with meat;
A boy who had been there three hours
began to wonder, "Is life anything like that?"

— Charles Edward Ives

74. The Children’s Hour

Dana Carlson-Kottke, soprano

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
the patter of little feet
The sound of a door that is opened
and voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice and laughing Allegra
and Edith with golden hair.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)

77. Élégie

Lizzie Gill, mezzo-soprano

Ô, doux printemps d'autre fois, vertes saisons, 
Vous avez fui pour toujours!
Je ne vois plus le ciel bleu;
Je n'entends plus les chants joyeux des oiseaux!
En emportant mon bonheur, mon bonheur...
Ô bien-amé, tu t'en es allé!
Et c'est en vain que le printemps revient!
Oui, sans retour, 
avec toi, le gai soleil,
Les jours riants sont partis!
Comme en mon coeur tout est sombre et glacé!
Tout est flétri 
pour toujours! 

Oh, sweet springtime from long ago, green seasons, 
you have fled for aye!
I no longer see the blue sky;
I no longer hear the joyous songs of the birds!
Taking away my happiness, my happiness…
Oh, beloved, you have gone away!
And it is in vain that spring is returning!
Yes, without return,
with thee, the bright sun,
the laughing days are gone!
Just as in my heart everything is somber and frozen!
All is withered away
forever!

— Louis Gallet (1835–1898)
translation: Ed Bak

101. My Native Land

Ariyah Wallace, mezzo-soprano

My native land now meets my eye,
The old oaks raise their boughs on high,
Violets greeting seem,
Ah! 'tis a dream.

And when in distant lands I roam,
My heart will wander to my home;
While these visions and fancies teem,
Still let me dream. 

— Charles Edward Ives

102. Memories: a) Very Pleasant b) Rather Sad

Allie Canfield, soprano

A. Very Pleasant

We're sitting in the opera house;
We're waiting for the curtain to arise
With wonders for our eyes;
We're feeling pretty gay,
And well we may,
"O, Jimmy, look!" I say,
"The band is tuning up
And soon will start to play."
We whistle and we hum,
Beat time with the drum.

We're sitting in the opera house;
We're waiting for the curtain to arise
With wonders for our eyes,
A feeling of expectancy,
A certain kind of ecstasy,
Expectancy and ecstasy... Sh's's's.

B. Rather Sad

From the street a strain on my ear doth fall,
A tune as threadbare as that "old red shawl,"
It is tattered, it is torn,
It shows signs of being worn,
It's the tune my Uncle hummed from early morn,
'Twas a common little thing and kind 'a sweet,
But 'twas sad and seemed to slow up both his feet;
I can see him shuffling down
To the barn or to the town,
A-humming.

— Charles Edward Ives

108. Songs My Mother Taught Me

Grace Bete, mezzo-soprano

Songs my mother taught me in the days long vanished,
Seldom from her eyelids were the tear drops banished.
Now I teach my children each melodious measure;
Often tears are flowing from my memory's treasure.

— Natalie MacFarren (1826–1916)
 

Pianist EDWARD BAK enjoys an active career as a vocal coach and collaborative pianist. The international press has hailed him as “a pianist who knows how to combine fury and restraint, elegance and lyrical effusion” and  praised him for playing of “fire, excitement, and a real sense of grandeur,” as well as being a collaborator of “great sensitivity and refinement.” Read more.
 

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