Concert 1 – Looking Towards America – Barber, Walker, Dvorak
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Barber – “Dover Beach”, for Voice and String Quartet

Baritone – Jim Rittenhouse
Violin I – Julia Cash
Violin II – Annie Daigle
Viola – Laura Vicic
Cello – Cecilia Huerta-Lauf

Dvorak – Viola Quintet in E flat, op.97 

  1. Allegro non tanto
  2. Allegro vivo
  3. Larghetto
  4. Finale. Allegro giusto
Violin I – Brendan Speltz
Violin II – Julia Cash
Viola I – Luke Fleming
Viola II – Evan Vicic
Cello – Nicholas Finch




Walker“Lyric”, from String Quartet no. 1

Violin I – Julia Cash
Violin II – Annie Daigle
Viola – Laura Vicic
Cello – Cecilia Huerta-Lauf

Dvorak – Piano Quintet no. 2 in A Major, op. 81. 

  1. Allegro, ma non tanto
  2. Dumka: Andante con moto
  3. Scherzo (Furiant): Molto vivace
  4. Finale: Allegro.
Violin I – Siwoo Kim
Violin II – Brendan Speltz
Viola – Luke Fleming
Cello – Brook Speltz
Piano – Anna Petrova

Dover Beach



The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.


Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.


The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.


Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

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