Sonnet
Paul Appleby, tenor
Martin Néron, piano
Sunday, April 26, 2026, at 2 p.m.
Gill Memorial Chapel
Rider University
2083 Lawrenceville Road
Lawrenceville, NJ
Please note the unauthorized use of any recording device, either audio or video, and the taking of photographs, either with or without flash, is strictly prohibited. Out of courtesy to the performers and everyone in the audience, please refrain from using cell phones and electronic devices during the performance.
Sonnet traces one of poetry’s most enduring forms across centuries, languages, and musical imaginations. From the intimacy of Petrarch to the bold modernity of American verse, composers transform tightly wrought lines into expansive sound worlds. Love, longing, wit, and wonder unfold as poetry becomes music, and tradition finds new voice.
Program
SILENT NOON
Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958)
NO LONGER MOURN FOR ME Frank Bridge (1879-1941) WHEN MOST I WINK Charles Hubert Parry (1848-1918)
THE HOLY SONNET OF JOHN DONNE
XIV: Batter my heart
XVII: Since she whom i lov’d
X: Death be not proud
PIOGGIA
SONETTO XXX VEGGIO CO' BE' VOSTRI OCCHI
Benjamin Britten (1913-1976)
Ottorino Respighi (1879-1936)
Benjamin Britten (1913-1976)
PACE NON TROVO (SONETTO 104 DI PETRARCA) Franz Liszt (1811-1886)
LA MORT DES AMANTS
Claude Debussy (1862-1918)
LES HIBOUX Déodat de Séverac (1872-1921)
LE BACHELIER DE SALAMANQUE
Albert Roussel (1869-1937)
SONNET Russell Platt (b.1965)
WHAT LIPS MY LIPS HAVE KISSED Margaret Bonds (1913-1972) IT MAY NOT ALWAYS BE SO Brad Mehldau (b. 1950)
CANTA TU CANTO, RUISEÑOR, Y VUELA
Carlos López Buchardo (1881-1948)
SONETO Alberto Nepomuceno (1864-1920)
LOS DÍAS PERDIDOS Carlos Guastavino (1912-2000)
LA VIE ANTÉRIEURE Henri Duparc (1848-1933)
Program Texts & Translations
SILENT NOON – Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass, The finger-points look through like rosy blooms: Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms ’Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass. All round our nest, far as the eye can pass, Are golden kingcup fields with silver edge Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn hedge. ’Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky: So this wing’d hour is dropt to us from above. Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower, This close-companioned inarticulate hour When twofold silence was the song of love.
NO LONGER MOURN FOR ME
– William Shakespeare (Sonnet 71)
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell: Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it, for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe. O, if, I say you look upon this verse, When I perhaps compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse; But let your love even with my life decay, Lest the wise world should look into your moan And mock you with me after I am gone.
WHEN MOST I WINK –
William Shakespeare (Sonnet 43)
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, For all the day they view things unrespected; But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, And darkly bright are bright in dark directed. Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright, How would thy shadow’s form form happy show To the clear day with thy much clearer light, When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made By looking on thee in the living day, When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
HOLY SONNETS – John Donne
XIV: Batter my heart
Batter my heart, three-person’d God; for you As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new. I, like an usurp’d town to another due, Labour to admit you, but oh, to no end; Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend, But is captiv’d, and proves weak or untrue. Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov’d fain, But am betroth’d unto your enemy; Divorce me, untie or break that knot again, Take me to you, imprison me, for I, Except you enthrall me, never shall be free, Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
XVII: Since she whom I lov’d
Since she whom I lov’d hath paid her last debt To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead, And her soul early into heaven ravished, Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set. Here the admiring her my mind did whet To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head; But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed, A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet. But why should I beg more love, when as thou Dost woo my soul, for hers offering all thine: And dost not only fear lest I allow My love to saints and angels, things divine, But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt Lest the world, flesh, yea devil put thee out.
X: Death be not proud
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
PIOGGIA – Vittoria Aganoor Pompilj
Piovea: per le finestre spalancate
A quella tregua di ostinati odori
Saliano dal giardin fresche folate
D'erbe risorte e di risorti fiori
S'acchettava il tumulto dei colori
Sotto il vel delle gocciole implorate; E intorno ai pioppi ai frassini agli allori Beveano ingorde le zolle assetate.
Esser pianta, esser foglia, esser stelo E nell'angoscia dell'ardor (pensavo)
Così largo ristoro aver dal cielo!
Sul davanzal protesa io gli arboscelli, I fiori, l'erbe guardavo guardavo E mi battea la pioggia sui capelli.
It was raining: through the windows, opened wide To the respite of the persistent fragrances, There wafted from the garden cool gusts Of revived grass and revived flowers.
The tumult of colours calmed down Beneath the veil of the longed-for droplets; And around the poplars, the ashes and the laurels The thirsty clods of earth drank greedily.
Oh, to be a plant! To be a leaf, to be a stem, And in the anguish of passion (I reflected) To receive such great renewal from the sky!
Leaning out over the windowsill I watched And watched the bushes, the flowers, the grass, While the rain beat down on my hair.
SONETTO XXX – “Veggio co’ be’ vostri occhi” – Michelangelo Veggio co’ be’ vostr’occhi un dolce lume che co’ mie ciechi già veder non posso; porto co’ vostri piedi un pondo addosso, che de’ mie zoppi non è già costume.
Volo con le vostr’ale senza piume; col vostro ingegno al ciel sempre son mosso; dal vostro arbitrio son pallido e rosso, freddo al sol, caldo alle più fredde brume.
Nel voler vostro è sol la voglia mia, i miei pensier nel vostro cor si fanno, nel vostro fiato son le mie parole.
Come luna da sé sol par ch’io sia, ché gli occhi nostri in ciel veder non sanno se non quel tanto che n’accende il sole.
I see with your beautiful eyes a sweet light Which my blind eyes cannot perceive; I carry with your feet a heavy burden Which my lame feet cannot sustain.
I fly with your wings, without them I fall; By your will I am always strong or weak; Through your spirit I am wise or foolish; In your heart my thoughts are born.
In your breath is my speech, Like the moon reflected in the sun; Your love is my only desire.
As a mirror reflects the face, So my soul reflects yours: Without you I am nothing.
PACE NON TROVO – Francesco Petrarca
Pace non trovo, et non ò da far guerra; et temo, et spero; et ardo, et son un ghiaccio; et volo sopra ’l cielo, et giaccio in terra; et nulla stringo, et tutto ’l mondo abbraccio.
Tal m’ha in pregion, che non m’apre né serra, né per suo mi ritien né scioglie il laccio; et non m’ancide Amore, et non mi sferra, né mi vuol vivo né mi trae d’impaccio.
Veggio senza occhi, et non ò lingua et grido; et bramo di perir, et cheggio aita; et ò in odio me stesso, et amo altrui.
Pascomi di dolor; piangendo rido; egualmente mi spiace morte et vita: in questo stato son, Laura, per voi.
LA MORT DES AMANTS – Charles Baudelaire
Nous aurons des lits pleins d’odeurs légères, Des divans profonds comme des tombeaux, Et d’étranges fleurs sur des étagères, Écloses pour nous sous des cieux plus beaux.
Usant à l’envi leurs chaleurs dernières, Nos deux cœurs seront deux vastes flambeaux, Qui réfléchiront leurs doubles lumières Dans nos deux esprits, ces miroirs jumeaux.
Un soir fait de rose et de bleu mystique, Nous échangerons un éclair unique, Comme un long sanglot, tout chargé d’adieux;
Et plus tard un Ange, entr’ouvrant les portes, Viendra ranimer, fidèle et joyeux, Les miroirs ternis et les flammes mortes.
LES HIBOUX – Charles Baudelaire
(trans. Cyril Scott)
Sous les ifs noirs qui les abritent Les hiboux se tiennent rangés Ainsi que des dieux étrangers Dardant leur oeil rouge. Ils méditent.
Sans remuer ils se tiendront Jusqu'à l'heure mélancolique
Où, poussant le soleil oblique, Les ténèbres s'établiront.
Leur attitude au sage enseigne
Qu'il faut en ce monde qu'il craigne Le tumulte et le mouvement;
I find no peace, and yet I make no war; I fear and hope, I burn and turn to ice; I soar to heaven, yet lie upon the earth; I grasp at nothing, yet embrace the world.
Love holds me fast in such a prison state That he neither opens nor shuts the gate; He claims me not as his, nor frees the knot; He slays me not, nor breaks my bonds apart.
I see without eyes, and cry without a tongue; I long to perish, yet I beg for aid; I hate myself, but love another.
I feed on sorrow, laughing as I weep; Both death and life displease me equally: In this condition, Laura, I am because of you.
We shall have beds filled with light fragrances, Deep couches like tombs, And strange flowers upon the shelves, Blooming for us beneath more beautiful skies.
Using up their final warmth, Our two hearts will be like twin torches, Reflecting their double light In our two spirits, those mirrored souls.
One evening of rose and mystical blue, We shall exchange a single flash, Like a long sob filled with farewells;
And later, an Angel, opening the doors, Will come to rekindle, faithful and joyful, The tarnished mirrors and the dying flames.
Beneath the shades of sombre yews, The silent owls sit ranged in rows, Like ancient idols, strangely pose, And darting fiery eyes, they muse.
Immovable, they sit and gaze, Until the melancholy hour, At which the darknesses devour The faded sunset's slanting rays.
Their attitude, instructs the wise, That he within this world who flies From tumult and from merriment;
L'homme ivre d'une ombre qui passe
Porte toujours le châtiment
D'avoir voulu changer de place
LE BACHELIER DE SALAMANQUE – René Chalupt
(trans. Christopher Goldsack)
Où vas-tu, toi qui passes si tard Dans les rues désertes de Salamanque
Avec ta toque noire et ta guitare Que tu dissimules sous ta mante?
Le couvre feu est déjà sonné Et depuis longtemps, dans leurs paisibles maisons
Les bourgeois dorment à poings fermés. Ne sais-tu pas qu'un édit de l'alcade1
Ordonne de jeter en prison
Tous les donneurs de sérénade, Que les malandrins couperont ta chaîne d'or Et que la fille de l'Almirante
Pour qui vainement tu te tourmentes Se moque de toi derrière son mirador?
SONNET – Elizabeth Bishop
I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling fingertips, Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips, With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow. Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low, Of some song sung to rest the tired dead, A song to fall like water on my head, And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody: A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep To the subaqueous stillness of the sea, And floats forever in a moon-green pool, Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.
The man allured by a passing face, For ever bears the chastisement Of having wished to change his place.
Where are you going, you who pass so late along the deserted streets of Salamanca with your black cap and your guitar which you hide beneath your cape? The curfew is already rung and long since, in their peaceful homes, the citizens sleep tight. Are you not aware that an edict from the Alcade ordains that all singers of serenades be thrown in jail, that the thieves will cut your gold chain and that the daughter of the Almirante, for whom you torment yourself in vain, laughs at you behind her mirador?
WHAT LIPS MY LIPS HAVE KISSED – Edna St. Vincent Millay
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.
IT MAY NOT ALWAYS BE SO – e.e. cummings it may not always be so; and i say that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch his heart, as mine in time not far away; if on another's face your sweet hair lay in such a silence as i know, or such great writhing words as, uttering overmuch, stand helplessly before the spirit at bay; if this should be, i say if this should be you of my heart, send me a little word; that i may go unto him, and take his hands, saying, Accept all happiness from me. Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
CANTA TU CANTO, RUISEÑOR, Y VUELA – Ignacio B. Anzoátegui
(trans. Emily Jo Riggs )
Canta tu canto, ruiseñor, y vuela, Vuela tu vuelo, ruiseñor, y canta. Y en la luz que a tu canto se adelanta, Adelanta mi pena paralela.
Canta sobre la luna, centinela, Toda condecorada tu garganta, Y el amor de la estrella desencanta, Enamorada en éxtasis de espuela.
Canta para la estrella enamorada Que repitió en la pena florecida La sangre de la boca lastimada.
Y subirá la luna decidida Come subió en la luz de su mirada La noche ilustremente amanecida.
SONETO – Coelho Neto
Ando tão venturoso com querer-te
Que, por achar de mais tanta ventura Ó delicada e meiga criatura
Temo que venha o instante de perder-te
Todo o bem que em minh'alma esse amor verte Faz-se depressa em pérfida tortura: Julgo que enlouqueci, pois é loucura Pensar que te perdi só por não ver-te
Sing your song, nightingale and fly
Fly your flight, nightingale, and sing
And in the light that precedes your song my pain comes at the same time.
Sing under the moon, sentinel, With your fully decorated throat, And the love of the disenchanted star Enamored in ecstasy from the talon.
Sing for the enamored star
That repeated in the flourishing pain
The blood of the wounded mouth.
And the determined moon will rise
Like the light rose in her glance
The night dawned illustriously
I walk so blessed in my love for you
That, finding such bliss almost too great to bear Oh, delicate and gentle creature I fear the moment may come when I lose you.
All the goodness that this love pours into my soul
Swiftly turns into treacherous torment: I think I have gone mad, for surely it is madness
To believe I have lost you simply for not seeing you.
Se penso, és tu meu pensamento Canto, e és tu a estrofe do meu canto Falo, teu nome é o termo que me vem, risonho;
Se de saudade choro, és o meu pranto; És meu silêncio se de dor me calo És o meu sonho, quando à noite sonho
LOS DIAS PERDIDOS – Ana Maria Chouhy Aguirre
Quiero decir mi canto como el ave, quiero mi soledad entristecida, y quiero ya que el llanto está en mi vida, un modo de llorar discreto y suave.
Mi corazón cansado sufre y sabe que sin grito la voz está en su herida, como la dulce rama florecida que se alza hacia un destino lento y grave.
Por eso busco entrelazar mi pena para que se armonice y sea serena con el mensaje musical del viento.
Y que mi verso entre la hierba verde diga sencillamente lo que siento en esta edad de asombro que se pierde.
LA VIE ANTÉRIEURE – Charles Baudelaire
(trans.Emily Leithauser )
J’ai longtemps habité sous de vastes portiques
Que les soleils marins teignaient de mille feux, Et que leurs grands piliers, droits et majestueux, Rendaient pareils, le soir, aux grottes basaltiques.
Les houles, en roulant les images des cieux, Mêlaient d’une façon solennelle et mystique
Les tout-puissants accords de leur riche musique
Aux couleurs du couchant reflété par mes yeux.
C’est là que j’ai vécu dans les voluptés calmes, Au milieu de l’azur, des vagues, des splendeurs, Et des esclaves nus, tout imprégnés d’odeurs,
Qui me rafraîchissaient le front avec des palmes, Et dont l’unique soin était d’approfondir
Le secret douloureux qui me faisait languir.
If I think, you are my very thought; I sing, and you are the verse of my song; I speak, and your name is the word that comes to me, smiling;
If I weep from longing, you are my tears; You are my silence when, in pain, I fall mute; You are my dream, when at night I dream.
I want to voice my song just like a bird, I want my solitude, though tinged with sorrow; and since my life is steeped in tears, I long for weeping that is gentle, soft, and blurred.
My weary heart endures, and it has learned that without cries, the voice lives in its wound, like a sweet branch in bloom that rises up toward some slow, solemn, and distant end.
And so I seek to weave together my grief so it may find its harmony and peace within the wind’s own musical message.
And may my verse, among the grasses green, simply express what I alone can feel in this lost age of wonder slipping by.
I lived for years beneath vast porticoes
Ocean suns tinged with myriad fiery lights, And whose upright, majestic pillars, nights, Reminded me of vast, basaltic grottos.
The sea-swell, rolling images of the skies, In a mystical and solemn manner bound The all-powerful harmonies of its sound With the sunset’s colors mirrored in my eyes.
That was the place where I lived in voluptuous calm, Surrounded by azure skies, and splendors, and waves, Waited on by naked, fragrant slaves
Who fanned and freshened my brow with fronds of palm,
And whose sole task was to deepen and divine
The hidden sorrow causing me to pine.
About the Artists
PAUL APPLEBY
Admired for his interpretive depth, vocal strength, and range of expressivity, tenor Paul Appleby is one of the most sought-after voices of his generation. He graces the stages of the world’s most distinguished concert halls and opera houses and collaborates with leading orchestras, instrumentalists, and conductors. Opera News writes, “[Paul’s] tenor is limpid and focused, but with a range of color unusual in an instrument so essentially lyric… His singing is scrupulous and musical; the voice moves fluidly and accurately.”
Paul Appleby’s concert calendar for the 2025-26 season includes performances and a commercial recording of Thomas de Hartmann’s Esther with Kirill Karabits and Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, the title role of Berlioz’ La damnation de Faust with Tomáš Netopil and the Prague Radio Symphony Orchestra, a program of Bach Cantatas with the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, and the world premiere of Angélica Negrón’s For everything you keep losing with Fabio Luisi and the Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Closely associated with the title role of Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex, the American tenor joins Petr Popelka for performances with the Prague Radio Symphony Orchestra in Dvořák Hall, Rudolfinum and at the Smetana Litomyšl Festival and embodies the fated King of Thebes for a debut at the Norwegian Opera & Ballet in a new production by the internationally celebrated choreographer Sir Wayne McGregor. Paul Appleby makes a role debut as Captain Vere in Billy Budd for the Opéra national de Lyon in performances led by Finnegan Downie Dear and he returns to the Metropolitan Opera, which the tenor considers his ‘home company,’ bowing as Don Ottavio in Don Giovanni and as Tamino in The Magic Flute, solidifying – yet again – Paul Appleby’s place as one of the most distinguished Mozartean tenors of our day.
MARTIN NÉRON
Dr. Martin Néron is a collaborative pianist, diction specialist, and teacher of Vocal Coaching and French mélodie at Westminster Choir College of Rider University. Recognized for his stylistic insight and commitment to textdriven performance, he appears widely as a recitalist, coach, and lecturer. He is Artistic Director of Vocalis Consort and co-founder and co-artistic director of the Federation of the Art Song, organizations dedicated to expanding and diversifying the vocal repertoire through performance, competition, and education. His work includes commissioning new compositions, promoting inclusive programming, and fostering international collaborations, including the creation of the Canto Latino CyberChallenge, an international competition celebrating Latin American song.
A committed advocate of culturally responsive practice, Dr. Néron has arranged folk melodies from Quechua, Ecuadorian, Peruvian, and Catalan traditions, approaching each project with a focus on ethical stewardship. His research on the adaptation of Indigenous music has been presented at institutions including the Longy School of Music, the College Music Society International Conference, and the International Congress of Voice Teachers. Dr. Néron has appeared as a guest artist and lecturer at leading universities across the United States and abroad. A recognized authority on lyric diction and art song, he is the author of Francis Poulenc: Selected Song Texts and has published extensively in the Journal of Singing. His performances and recordings span French mélodie, contemporary repertoire, and world music collaborations.
About Rider University & Westminster Choir College
Located in Lawrenceville, New Jersey, Rider University is a private co-educational, student-centered university that emphasizes purposeful connections between academic study and real-world learning experience. Rider prepares graduates to thrive professionally, to be lifelong independent learners, and to be responsible citizens who embrace diversity, support the common good, and contribute meaningfully to the changing world in which they live and work.
The College of Arts and Sciences is dedicated to educating students for engaged citizenship, career success, and personal growth in a diverse and complex world. The college cultivates intellectual reflection, artistic creativity, and academic maturity by promoting both broad academic inquiry and in-depth disciplinary study, while nurturing effective and ethical applications of transferable critical skills. The College consists of four schools: the School of Humanities and Social Sciences, the School of Communication, Media, and Performing Arts, the School of Science, Technology, and Mathematics, and Westminster Choir College.
Culturally vibrant and historically rich, Westminster Choir College has a legacy of preparing students for thriving careers as well-rounded performers and musical leaders on concert stages, in schools, universities, and churches, and in professional and community organizations worldwide. Renowned for its tradition of choral excellence, the college is home to internationally recognized ensembles, including the Westminster Symphonic Choir, which has performed and recorded with virtually all of the major orchestras and conductors of our time. In addition to its choral legacy, Westminster is known as a center for excellence in musical pedagogy and performance.
Upcoming Performances
WESTMINSTER JUBILEE SINGERS: A JUBILEE 30TH ANNIVERSARY HOMECOMING
Sunday, April 26, 7:30 p.m.
Gill Chapel
ARTBEAST
Friday, May 1, 3 p.m.
Rider University
GRADUATE CONDUCTING RECITAL SERIES
Westminster Choir Graduate Conductors: Claire Fritz and Lucas Heredia
Friday, May 1, 7:30 p.m.
Gill Chapel
9 TO 5
Friday, May 1, 7:30 p.m.
Saturday, May 2, 2 p.m. & 7:30 p.m.
Sunday, May 3, 2 p.m.
Yvonne Theater
LINDSEY CHRISTIANSEN ART SONG FESTIVAL
Sunday, May 3, 3 p.m.
Gill Chapel
ACTING SHOWCASE
Tuesday May 5, 7:30 p.m.
Bart Luedeke Center Theater
WESTMINSTER CHOIR: THE WESTMINSTER CHOIR LOOKS FORWARD Saturday, May 9, 7 p.m
Episcopal Church of the Advent 612 Franklin St, Cape May, NJ 08204
Thursday, May 14, 7:30 p.m.
Bristol Chapel
101 Walnut Lane, Princeton, NJ 08540
WESTMINSTER CHOIR COLLEGE CHAPEL SERVICE
Friday, May 15, 7 p.m.
Princeton University Chapel
FOR MORE INFORMATION ON UPCOMING PERFORMANCES, SUBSCRIPTION AND PATRON PROGRAM OPTIONS, VISIT RIDER.EDU/ARTS.
