Good Morning, Class of '64
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| Summer Garden - Abbott Fuller Graves |
Paul Laurence Dunbar
Oh, summer has clothed the earth
In a cloak from the loom of the sun!
And a mantle, too, of the skies’ soft blue,
And a belt where the rivers run.
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| Grandmother's Doorway - Abbott Fuller Graves |
Idyll
Siegfried Sassoon
Siegfried Sassoon
In the grey summer garden
I shall find you
With day-break and the morning
hills behind you.
hills behind you.
There will be rain-wet roses;
stir of wings;
stir of wings;
And down the wood a thrush
that wakes and sings.
that wakes and sings.
Not from the past you’ll come,
but from that deep
Where beauty murmurs to
the soul asleep:
but from that deep
Where beauty murmurs to
the soul asleep:
And I shall know the sense
of life re-born
of life re-born
From dreams into the
mystery of morn
mystery of morn
Where gloom and
brightness meet.
brightness meet.
And standing there
Till that calm song is done,
at last we’ll share
at last we’ll share
The league-spread, quiring
symphonies that are
symphonies that are
Joy in the world, and peace,
and dawn’s one star.
and dawn’s one star.
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| An Afternoon Siesta - Jos Pauwels |
61. Manhattan Spiritual - Reg Owen (10) 1959
62. Raunchy - Billy Vaughn (10) 1957
63. Shish Kebab - Ralph Materie (10) 1957
64. Charmaine - Mantovani (10) 1951
65. Blue Tango - Les Baxter (10) 1952
66. Jingle Bells - Les Paul (10) 1951
67. Three Penny Opera - Richard Hayman (11) 1956
68. Soft Summer Breeze - Eddie Heywood (11) 1956
69. Harbor Lights - Ken Griffin (11) 1950
70. Around The World - Mantovani (12) 1957
71. When the White Lilacs Bloom Again - Helmut Zacharias (12) 1956
72. The Syncopated Clock - Leroy Anderson (12) 1951
73. Josephine - Les Paul (12) 1951
74. Doodletown Fifers - Sauter Finegan (12) 1952
75. La Vie En rose - Paul Weston (12) 1950
76. Around The World - Victor Young (13) 1957
77. Johnson Rag - Jimmy Dorsey (13) 1950
78. The Hot Canary - Florian Zabach (13) 1951
79. Bongo Rock - Preston Epps (14) 1959
80. Man With the Golden Arm - Richard Maltby (14) 1956
62. Raunchy - Billy Vaughn (10) 1957
63. Shish Kebab - Ralph Materie (10) 1957
64. Charmaine - Mantovani (10) 1951
65. Blue Tango - Les Baxter (10) 1952
66. Jingle Bells - Les Paul (10) 1951
67. Three Penny Opera - Richard Hayman (11) 1956
68. Soft Summer Breeze - Eddie Heywood (11) 1956
69. Harbor Lights - Ken Griffin (11) 1950
70. Around The World - Mantovani (12) 1957
71. When the White Lilacs Bloom Again - Helmut Zacharias (12) 1956
72. The Syncopated Clock - Leroy Anderson (12) 1951
73. Josephine - Les Paul (12) 1951
74. Doodletown Fifers - Sauter Finegan (12) 1952
75. La Vie En rose - Paul Weston (12) 1950
76. Around The World - Victor Young (13) 1957
77. Johnson Rag - Jimmy Dorsey (13) 1950
78. The Hot Canary - Florian Zabach (13) 1951
79. Bongo Rock - Preston Epps (14) 1959
80. Man With the Golden Arm - Richard Maltby (14) 1956
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| Summer - John Atkinson Grimshaw |
At Dawn
Mary C. Shaw
I slipped into the garden
Almost before 'twas light,
As the lazy sun arose
I glimpsed a charming sight...
Red Poppy flung her cap aside,
Shook out her silken skirt;
The way she danced with a young breeze
Told me she was a flirt!
Almost before 'twas light,
As the lazy sun arose
I glimpsed a charming sight...
Red Poppy flung her cap aside,
Shook out her silken skirt;
The way she danced with a young breeze
Told me she was a flirt!
Soft Summer Breeze - #68
Eddie Heywood was a jazz pianist.
He composed and recorded
Soft Summer Breeze.
He has a "Star" at 1709 Vine Street
on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eddie_Heywood
Eddie Heywood - 1956
Eddie Heywood was a jazz pianist.
He composed and recorded
Soft Summer Breeze.
He has a "Star" at 1709 Vine Street
on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eddie_Heywood
Eddie Heywood - 1956
June Light
Richard Wilbur
Your voice, with clear
location of June days,
Called me outside the window.
You were there,
Light yet composed,
as in the just soft stare
as in the just soft stare
Of uncontested summer
all things raise
all things raise
Plainly their seeming
into seamless air.
into seamless air.
Then your love looked as
simple and entire
simple and entire
As that picked pear
you tossed me,
and your face
you tossed me,
and your face
As legible as pearskin’s
fleck and trace,
fleck and trace,
Which promise always wine,
by mottled fire
by mottled fire
More fatal fleshed than
ever human grace.
ever human grace.
And your gay gift—Oh when I saw
it fall Into my hands,
through all that naïve light,
it fall Into my hands,
through all that naïve light,
It seemed as blessed with
truth and new delight
truth and new delight
As must have been the
first great gift of all.
first great gift of all.
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| Breakfast in the Garden - Jos Pauwels |
Dew-Drops
Mildred L. Elliott
Our garden in the morning
Is a display of precious gems;
One can see the Roses holding
Shining crystals, jewels hidden
By the fleeing night
Between
Red folds of velvet.
Is a display of precious gems;
One can see the Roses holding
Shining crystals, jewels hidden
By the fleeing night
Between
Red folds of velvet.
When the White Lilacs Bloom Again - #71
Helmut Zacharias was a German violinist and
Helmut Zacharias was a German violinist and
composer who created over 400 works and
sold 14 million records.
He was considered to be one of the best
jazz
violinists of Europe and was dubbed
"The Magic Violinist" and
"Germany's Mr. Violin".
In 1956 he achieved his greatest success
in the
United States with the release of
"When the White Lilacs Bloom Again"
which reached number 12 on the
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| Girl With Lilacs - Unknown |
Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day?
(Sonnet 18)
William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
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| Pears and Plums in the Garden - Jos Pauwels |
Walt Whitman, 1819 - 1892
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs
of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along
the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love,
or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown,
or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of
the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of
the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs
of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along
the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love,
or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown,
or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of
the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of
the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—
the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
What stranger miracles are there?
Bongo Rock - #79
A rock and roll instrumental written and
A rock and roll instrumental written and
recorded by Preston Epps. Released as a single
in 1959, it charted #14 Pop in the United States.
Back Yard
Carl Sandburg, 1878 - 1967
Shine on, O moon of summer.
Shine to the leaves of grass,
Shine to the leaves of grass,
catalpa and oak,
All silver under your rain to-night.
An Italian boy is sending songs
All silver under your rain to-night.
An Italian boy is sending songs
to you to-night from an accordion.
A Polish boy is out with his best girl;
they marry next month;
to-night they are throwing you kisses.
An old man next door is dreaming
A Polish boy is out with his best girl;
they marry next month;
to-night they are throwing you kisses.
An old man next door is dreaming
over a sheen that sits in a
cherry tree in his back yard.
The clocks say I must go—I stay here
The clocks say I must go—I stay here
sitting on the back porch drinking
white thoughts you rain down.
Shine on, O moon,
Shake out more and
Shine on, O moon,
Shake out more and
more silver changes.
| A Shaded Spot for a Meal - Jos Pauwels |
Howard Dolf
The robin's song at daybreak
Is a clarion call to me.
Is a clarion call to me.
Get up and get out in the garden,
For the morning hours flee.
For the morning hours flee.
I cannot resist the summons,
What earnest gardener could?
For the golden hours of morning
Get into the gardener's blood.
What earnest gardener could?
For the golden hours of morning
Get into the gardener's blood.
The magic spell is upon me,
I'm glad that I did not wait;
For life's at its best in the morning,
As you pass through the garden gate.
I'm glad that I did not wait;
For life's at its best in the morning,
As you pass through the garden gate.
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| Woman With a Parasol in a Garden - Pierre Renoir |
Doxis M. Palmer
You who walk,
Maybe with troubled thoughts,
Come, enter here and rest;
And may the sweet serenity
Maybe with troubled thoughts,
Come, enter here and rest;
And may the sweet serenity
of growing things,
And the heavenly, peace
Be mirrored in thy soul.
And the heavenly, peace
Be mirrored in thy soul.
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| The Crimson Rambler - Phillip Leslie Hale |
Marie Nettleton Carroll
The golden sun has gone, the busy day is done.
Twilight has come and with it peace draws near
To dwell an hour within my garden walls, while in
The lambent sky the first pale stars appear.
The wheeling shadows that so slowly marked the hours
Have left no impress on the tender grass,
Nor does the air hold fast the patterns bold and free
That winging birds weave as the warm days pass.
The rued pool is stilled at last, and Lily buds
Prepare to open gently to the night
And to the questing moth whose fragile, gauzy wings
Quiver too rapidly for human sight.
In this tranquility, touch, hearing, sight are lulled.
I am as selfless as the scented airs
That wrap me round, while daylight's drowsy flowers
Send out the fragrance of their vesper prayers.
Twilight has come and with it peace draws near
To dwell an hour within my garden walls, while in
The lambent sky the first pale stars appear.
The wheeling shadows that so slowly marked the hours
Have left no impress on the tender grass,
Nor does the air hold fast the patterns bold and free
That winging birds weave as the warm days pass.
The rued pool is stilled at last, and Lily buds
Prepare to open gently to the night
And to the questing moth whose fragile, gauzy wings
Quiver too rapidly for human sight.
In this tranquility, touch, hearing, sight are lulled.
I am as selfless as the scented airs
That wrap me round, while daylight's drowsy flowers
Send out the fragrance of their vesper prayers.
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| In the Pergola - Oscar Bluhm |
Warm Summer Sun
Mark Twain
Warm summer sun,
Shine kindly here,
Warm southern wind,
Blow softly here.
Green sod above,
Lie light, lie light.
Good night, dear heart,
Good night, good night. |
| Supper by Lamplight - Jos Pauwels |
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