Speaker 1: Introduction of Anthology of Magazine Verse for nineteen thirteen, edited
Speaker 1: by William Stanley braithwait This is a LibriVox recording. All
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Speaker 1: Larry Wilson. Anthology of Magazine Verse for nineteen thirteen, edited
Speaker 1: by William Stanley Braithwaite. Introduction. Poetry is one of the
Speaker 1: realities that persist the facade and dome of palace and temple.
Speaker 1: The monuments of heroes and saints crumble before the ruining
Speaker 1: breath of time, while the psalms last. So when another
Speaker 1: year passes and we sum up our achievements, there is
Speaker 1: no achievement more vital in registering the soul of a
Speaker 1: people than its poetry. But in all things that men do,
Speaker 1: their relationship is objective, except those things in which art, religion, love,
Speaker 1: and nature express their influence through the private thoughts and
Speaker 1: feelings of men. These four things are the realities. All
Speaker 1: the others are symbols. And the essence of art, as
Speaker 1: well as religion and love and nature, is a conscious
Speaker 1: and mysterious thing called poetry, and men will find, if
Speaker 1: they will only stop to look, that at the bottom
Speaker 1: of all this poetry, no matter what the theme or
Speaker 1: the particular artistic shaping, there is something with which they
Speaker 1: are familiar, because in their own souls there has been
Speaker 1: an unceasing mystery which they find named in the magic
Speaker 1: utterance of some lonely and neglected maker of verses. The
Speaker 1: poetry in the magazines for this past year has been
Speaker 1: of a general high standard. The long poems have been
Speaker 1: well sustained, and there has been a larger quantity of
Speaker 1: pure lyric pieces than in the past two or three years.
Speaker 1: The influence of Masefield has shown itself in American verse,
Speaker 1: notably in the two life long poems by Harry Kemp,
Speaker 1: The Harvest's Hand and The Factory. One of the noblest
Speaker 1: poems of the year is Henry van Dyke's Daybreak in
Speaker 1: the Grand Canyon of Arizona, which breathes a fine national spirit,
Speaker 1: full of reverence for the greatness with which the American
Speaker 1: destiny is symbolized in the natural grandeur of our country.
Speaker 1: Mister Markham has a long narrative in the Shoes of Happiness,
Speaker 1: full of his visionary and spiritual promptings, and in the
Speaker 1: vision of Gettysburg, mister Robert Underwood Johnson reflects also the
Speaker 1: national spirit with particular significance. The poetry of the Yurine
Speaker 1: Volumes has not been as ample as last year. The
Speaker 1: three poets who have aroused most discussion are the Bengali
Speaker 1: poet Tagore, who brought to the Western world in Gitanjali
Speaker 1: a spiritual message full of mystic but exalted idealism. Francis Thompson,
Speaker 1: the great Catholic poet, because of the publication of his
Speaker 1: collected works, And Robert Bridges, who, by his appointment to
Speaker 1: the English Lawateship, became known to a large number of
Speaker 1: readers who had hitherto been unfamiliar with his very perfect
Speaker 1: and delicate gift of lyric beauty. Of American poets, the
Speaker 1: volumes of Fanny Stearns, Davis, William Rose Binney, Josephine Preston Peabody,
Speaker 1: Margaret rut Garvin, and George Edward Woodbury are the most significant.
Speaker 1: The most important book of poems of the year by
Speaker 1: an American poet, however, is that of Nicholas Rachel Lindsay.
Speaker 1: General William Booth Enters into Heaven and other poems. Here
Speaker 1: is a man with a big vision, with a fine originality,
Speaker 1: and an art that is particularly his own. There has
Speaker 1: been no lyric year this autumn, but a little volume
Speaker 1: that serves in some sense its purpose is Miss Jesse
Speaker 1: b Rittenhouse's Little Book of Modern Verse, which is intended
Speaker 1: to represent the quality of contemporary American verse. I want
Speaker 1: to call attention to a poet who who has not
Speaker 1: yet presented himself except through an occasional magazine piece, but
Speaker 1: who has written two of the finest sonnets in American poetry.
Speaker 1: Last year I reprinted in my annual summary mister Melon
Speaker 1: Leonards Fisher's as an old Mercer, and pronounced that an
Speaker 1: achievement which could hardly be surpassed. But in the sonnet November,
Speaker 1: which is reprinted in this book, mister Fisher has done
Speaker 1: I believe something that is even greater. It must rank
Speaker 1: with Lizette Woodworth, Riese's Tears and Longfellow's Nature as the
Speaker 1: best sonnets that have been accomplished by American poets. I
Speaker 1: have known one competent judge and lover of poetry to
Speaker 1: declare that not since keats On first looking into Chapman's
Speaker 1: Homer and Miss Rhese's Tears, has there appeared so fine
Speaker 1: a sonnet in English poetry? The man who has written
Speaker 1: November has added something to American poetry that cannot be
Speaker 1: too highly estimated. Another poet who has an enriched the
Speaker 1: magazines this year after a period of silence, is mister
Speaker 1: Edwin Arlington Robinson. And in the field of glory we
Speaker 1: are under the spell once more of that characteristic magic
Speaker 1: with which he is endowed alone among American poets, as
Speaker 1: in former years. In my annual summary in the Boston Transcript,
Speaker 1: I have examined the contents of the leading American monthly magazines.
Speaker 1: I originally started nine years ago when the first summ
Speaker 1: reappeared with these six The Atlantic, Harper's, Scribner's Century, Lippincott's
Speaker 1: and McClure's. Later I turned to the Forum. The poetry
Speaker 1: in McClure's during the two years previous to the beginning
Speaker 1: of the present year had fallen off. The magazine would
Speaker 1: repent occasionally verses from the books of accomplished but little
Speaker 1: known English and Irish poets, which, with the small amount
Speaker 1: of space that it devoted to verse, left but little
Speaker 1: chance of encouragement to native singers. This year I have
Speaker 1: included The smart Set, which, under the new editorship of
Speaker 1: mister Willard Huntington Wright himself, a port of considerable attainment
Speaker 1: has been the means of offering the public a high
Speaker 1: and consistent standard of excellence in the verse. It printed
Speaker 1: to the six magazines, namely Harper's, Scribner's, Century Forum, Lippencott's
Speaker 1: and the Smart Set. I have added this year a weekly,
Speaker 1: The Bellman, west of New York. It is the best
Speaker 1: edited and most influential periodical published. Indeed, it is widely
Speaker 1: read in the East. In its pages, three of the
Speaker 1: younger American poets of distinctive achievements have been presented. Though
Speaker 1: the late Arthur Upsom had published some two or three
Speaker 1: books of verse before The Bellman was established, yet it
Speaker 1: was practically the first American magazine to print his work.
Speaker 1: Amelia J. Burr made her first considerable poetic appearance in
Speaker 1: The Bellman, and the best work the sonnets that have
Speaker 1: placed mister mellin Land Fisher in the forefront of contemporary
Speaker 1: American or English sonnet writers, appeared in this same publication.
Speaker 1: As last year, I have winnowed from other magazines distinctive
Speaker 1: poems for classification and notice, one each from The Outlook,
Speaker 1: The Independent, the North American Review, Poetry, a Magazine of Verse,
Speaker 1: three from the Poetry Journal, and three from the Yale Review.
Speaker 1: The poems published during the year in the seven representative
Speaker 1: magazines I have submitted to an impartial critical test, choosing
Speaker 1: from the total number what I consider the distinctive poems
Speaker 1: of the year. From the distinctive pieces are selected eighty
Speaker 1: one poems, to which are added five from the other
Speaker 1: magazines not represented in the list of seven, making a
Speaker 1: total of eighty six, which are intended to represent what
Speaker 1: I call an anthology of magazine verse for nineteen thirteen.
Speaker 1: By a further process of elimination, similar to that of
Speaker 1: previous years, I have made another selection of forty poems which,
Speaker 1: for one reason or another in the purpose of this estimate,
Speaker 1: seemed to stand grouped above the others. The medium of
Speaker 1: magazine publication, towards which some critics in some poets too,
Speaker 1: a fact which can hardly be justified, and a considerable
Speaker 1: portion of the reading public have a disparaging opinion, is
Speaker 1: deserving a better repute for the general high quality of
Speaker 1: poetic art. That is published not many years ago. It
Speaker 1: was a favorite exercise of the reviewer, when noticing the
Speaker 1: average book of verse, which happened to include selections reprinted
Speaker 1: from various magazines, to term the work magazineable or the
Speaker 1: poet a magazine poet. Even poets who detested being called
Speaker 1: minor poets preferred that rather vague and indiscriminate distinction rather
Speaker 1: than the unrespectable magazineable. Quoting what I have written in
Speaker 1: previous years to emphasize the methods which guided my selections,
Speaker 1: the reader will see how impartial are the tests by
Speaker 1: which the dist distinctive, and best poems are chosen. I
Speaker 1: have not allowed any special sympathy with the subject to
Speaker 1: influence my choice. I have taken the poet's point of
Speaker 1: view and accepted his value of the theme he dealt with.
Speaker 1: The question was how vital and compelling did he make it.
Speaker 1: The first test was the sense of pleasure the poem communicated.
Speaker 1: Then to discover the secret or meaning of the pleasure felt,
Speaker 1: and in doing so, to realize how much richer one
Speaker 1: became in a knowledge of the purpose of life by
Speaker 1: reason of the poem's message. In one hundred and twenty one,
Speaker 1: numbers of these seven magazines I find there were published
Speaker 1: during nineteen thirteen a total of five hundred six poems.
Speaker 1: The total number of poems printed in each magazine and
Speaker 1: the number of the distinctive poems are Century total fifty
Speaker 1: eight thirty of distinction, Harper's total fifty seven, twenty nine
Speaker 1: of distinction, Scribner's total four twenty five thirty of distinction,
Speaker 1: Form total fifty three, twenty seven of distinction, Lippincott's total
Speaker 1: sixty six, twenty one of distinction, the Bellman total fifty three,
Speaker 1: twenty five of distinction, the smart Set total one hundred
Speaker 1: sixty nine forty nine of distinction. Following the text of
Speaker 1: the poems making the anthology, in this volume, I have
Speaker 1: given the titles and authors of all the poems classified
Speaker 1: as the distinctive published in the magazines for the year
Speaker 1: only one, excepting those that are included in the anthology.
Speaker 1: In addition, I give a list of all the poems
Speaker 1: in their authors in the one hundred and twenty one
Speaker 1: numbers of the magazines examined. For the purpose of a
Speaker 1: record which readers and students supporting will find useful. I
Speaker 1: wish to acknowledge my indebtedness and thanks to the editors
Speaker 1: of Scribner's Magazine, Harper's Magazine, The Form, the Century Magazine,
Speaker 1: The Outlook, Lippincott's Magazin, The Melman, The Independent, the Smart Set,
Speaker 1: the Yell Review, Poetry Magazine of Verse, and to the
Speaker 1: publishers of these magazines, including the Poetry Journal, for the
Speaker 1: permission kindly given to repent in this volume the text
Speaker 1: of the poems making the anthology of Magazine Verse for
Speaker 1: nineteen thirteen. To the authors of these poems, I am
Speaker 1: equally indebted and grateful for their willingness to have a
Speaker 1: reprint their work in this form since their appearance in
Speaker 1: the magazines, and before the close of the year when
Speaker 1: the contents of this volume was made up, two poems
Speaker 1: herein included appeared in the original volumes of their authors.
Speaker 1: For the use of William Rose Benet's The Marvelous Mounkhausen,
Speaker 1: I have also to thank the Century Company, publishers of
Speaker 1: Merchants of Cathay, in which volume it appears. As far
Speaker 1: as I know, only three of the poems here included
Speaker 1: are to come out immediately in books by their authors.
Speaker 1: The last four stanzas of a Threnity by mister Lewis.
Speaker 1: The le dieux are reprinted by permission of the editor
Speaker 1: of Scribner's Magazine, and the rest of the poem is
Speaker 1: published in advance by permission of Messieurs G. P. Putnam's
Speaker 1: Sons from a volume in mister Ledieu's Poems, which are
Speaker 1: also to include the hymn to Demeater from a Sicilian Idol.
Speaker 1: They are to issue in January under the title of
Speaker 1: the Shadow of Etna. The two selections by mister Richard
Speaker 1: Burton here lies Pierrot and Human, the two by Willard
Speaker 1: Huntington Wright What of the Night and later the one
Speaker 1: by George Edward Woodbury Saint John and the Fawn, and
Speaker 1: the two by Richard le Gallienne may Is Building Her
Speaker 1: House and Desiderium, which while this introduction is being written,
Speaker 1: has come out in mister la Gallienne's volume The Lonely
Speaker 1: Dancer and other poems John Lane Company are also being
Speaker 1: issued immediately in forthcoming volumes. If there are any others,
Speaker 1: I do not know of them, and in which case
Speaker 1: I would gladly give credit. If I trust any omission
Speaker 1: of such will be charged to ignorance rather than intention,
Speaker 1: I wish it to be understood that the privilege extended
Speaker 1: me so courteously by both the authors and the magazines
Speaker 1: to print the poems in this volume does not in
Speaker 1: any sense restrict the authors in their rights to print
Speaker 1: the poems and volumes of their own. A significant fact
Speaker 1: which the poetry in this volume must bring to the
Speaker 1: reader's mind in considering American poetry of today, is that
Speaker 1: these selections have been published for the first time during
Speaker 1: the current year. Our poetry needs, more than anything else,
Speaker 1: encouragement and support to reveal its qualities. The poets are
Speaker 1: doing satisfying and vitally excellent work, and it only remains
Speaker 1: for the American public to do its duty by showing
Speaker 1: a substantial appreciation. Lastly, I wish to thank the Boston
Speaker 1: Transcript for the privilege of reprinting material in this book
Speaker 1: which originally appeared in the columns of that paper, Cambridge,
Speaker 1: December nineteen thirteen. End of introduction.
Speaker 2: Hymn to Demeter by Louis V. Ledoux redflibrivox dot org
Speaker 2: biolum mapstone from a Sicilian itoll. Weave the dance and
Speaker 2: raise again the sacred chorus, wreathe the garlands of the
Speaker 2: spring about the hair Now once more, the meadows burst
Speaker 2: in bloom before us, Crying swallows dart and glitter through
Speaker 2: the air, glints the plowshare in the brown and fragrant furrow.
Speaker 2: Pigeons coup in shady coverts as they pair come the
Speaker 2: furtive mountain folk from cave and burrow, lean and blinking
Speaker 2: in the sunlight's sudden glare bright through midmost heaven moves
Speaker 2: the lesser lion, hide the hyads in the ocean. Cavern's
Speaker 2: oar past the shoulders. Up the sunset flames Orion following
Speaker 2: the sisters seaward evermore, gleams the east at evening, lit
Speaker 2: by low Actaurus, out to subtle scented dawns beside the shore.
Speaker 2: Yet a little, and the pleiades will lure us. Weave
Speaker 2: the dance and raise the chorus as of yore, far
Speaker 2: to eastward, up the fabled Gulf of ISOs, northward, southward westward.
Speaker 2: Now the trader goes, passing headlands clustered yellow with narcissus,
Speaker 2: bright with hyacinth, with poppy, and with rose, shines the
Speaker 2: sea and falls the billow as undaunted, past the rising
Speaker 2: of the stars that no man knows sails He onward
Speaker 2: through the islands, siren haunted till the clashing gates of
Speaker 2: rock before him close. Kindly, Mother of the beasts and
Speaker 2: birds and flowers, gracious bringer of the barley and the grain.
Speaker 2: Earth awakened feels thy sunlight and thy showers. Great Demeter,
Speaker 2: let us call thee knots in vain, lead us safely
Speaker 2: from the seed time to the threshing, past the harvest,
Speaker 2: and the vineyard's purple stain. Let us see thy corn,
Speaker 2: pale hair, the sunlight meshing, when the sounding flails of
Speaker 2: autumn swing again. Yale review, end of poem. This recording
Speaker 2: is in the public domain.
Speaker 3: Over the Winter Threshold by Blue Carmen, Over the Winter Threshold,
Speaker 3: who comes with joy today, so frail yet so enduring
Speaker 3: to triumph or dismay Ah, Quicker tears are springing, and
Speaker 3: quickly they are dried, For sorrow walks before her, but
Speaker 3: gladness walks beside. She comes with gusts of laughter, the
Speaker 3: music as of reals, with tenderness and sweetness, the wisdom
Speaker 3: of the hills. Her hands are strong to comfort, her
Speaker 3: heart is quick to heed. She knows the signs of sadness.
Speaker 3: She knows the voice of need.
Speaker 4: There is no living.
Speaker 3: Creature, however poor or small, but she will know its
Speaker 3: trouble and hearken to its call. Oh well, they fare
Speaker 3: forever by mighty dreams, possessed, whose hearts have leaned a
Speaker 3: moment on the eternal breast and upon. This recording is
Speaker 3: in the public domain. In April by Margaret Lee Ashley
Speaker 3: read for libervoxa org. By Romising, I am slow forgetting
Speaker 3: is because the sun has such old tricks of setting.
Speaker 3: When April days are done, the soft spring sunlight traces
Speaker 3: old patterns, green and gold. The flowers have no new faces.
Speaker 3: The very buds are old. If I am slow forgetting, ah, well,
Speaker 3: come back and see the same old sunbeams penning my
Speaker 3: garden plots, and me come smell the green things growing
Speaker 3: the box would after rain, see where old beds are
Speaker 3: showing there slender spears again at dusk that fosters dreaming.
Speaker 3: Come back at dusk and rest and watch your old
Speaker 3: star gleaming against the primrose west and of pump. This
Speaker 3: record is in the public domain.
Speaker 5: May Is Building her House by Richard la Galliene read
Speaker 5: for LibriVox dot Org by G. Carlson. May Is Building
Speaker 5: her house. May is building her house with apple blooms.
Speaker 5: She is roofing over the glimmering rooms of the oak
Speaker 5: and the beech hath she builded its beams, and spinning
Speaker 5: all day at her secret looms with aarras of leaves,
Speaker 5: each wind swayed wall. She pitchereth over and peopleth it
Speaker 5: all with echoes and dreams and singing of streams. May
Speaker 5: is building her house of petal and blade of the
Speaker 5: roots of the oak, as the flooring maid, with a
Speaker 5: carpet of mosses and lichen and clover, each small miracle,
Speaker 5: over and over, and tender traveling green things strayed her
Speaker 5: windows the morning and evening star, and her rustling doorways
Speaker 5: ever ajar, with the coming and going of fair things
Speaker 5: blowing the thresholds of the four winds are. May is
Speaker 5: building her house from the dust of things. She is
Speaker 5: making the songs and the flowers and the wings from
Speaker 5: October's tossed and trodden gold. She is making the young
Speaker 5: year out of the old yea out of winter's flying sleet.
Speaker 5: She is making all the summer sweet, and the brown
Speaker 5: leaves spurned of November's feet. She is changing back again
Speaker 5: to springs end of poem. This recording is in the
Speaker 5: public domain.
Speaker 6: In a Forgotten Burying Ground by Ruth Guthrie Harding read
Speaker 6: for LibriVox dot Org by Andrew Gaunce Eternal. In the
Speaker 6: brooding of the old Norwegian spruces, I hear the wistful
Speaker 6: tenderness of loves they used to know, And in the
Speaker 6: swelling wood notes that the eager spring tide looses sobs
Speaker 6: again their heart break from the springs of long ago.
Speaker 6: And sometime through the silence, with the april shadows lying
Speaker 6: aslant the solemn acre where I take my dreamless rest,
Speaker 6: perhaps the stifled need of you, my heart was ever crying,
Speaker 6: will find its way across the ears to stir a
Speaker 6: stranger's breast. End of poem. This recording is in the
Speaker 6: public domain.
Speaker 7: Wind by Fanny Sterns Davis. The wind bows down the
Speaker 7: poplar trees, the wind bows down the crested seas, and
Speaker 7: he has bowed the heart of me under his hand
Speaker 7: of memory. Oh heavy handed wind, who goes hurting the
Speaker 7: petals of the rose, who leaves the grasses on the
Speaker 7: hill broken and pallid, spent, And still, Oh heavy handed Wind,
Speaker 7: who brings to me, I'll echo in ancient things, echoing
Speaker 7: sorrow and defeat, crying like mourners hard to meet. The
Speaker 7: wind bows down the poplar trees, and all the oceans
Speaker 7: arega seas. But deeper bends the heart of me under
Speaker 7: his hand of memory and of palm. This reporting is
Speaker 7: in the public domain.
Speaker 8: The Speckled Trout by Madison Kowaen read for LibriVox dot
Speaker 8: org by Paul Harvey, with rod and line. I took
Speaker 8: my way that led me through the gossip trees, where
Speaker 8: all the forest was a sway, with hurry of the
Speaker 8: running breeze. I took my hat off to a flower
Speaker 8: that nodded welcome as I passed, and pelted by a
Speaker 8: morning shower. Unto its heart, a bee held fast a
Speaker 8: head of gold. One great weed tossed and leaned to
Speaker 8: look when I went by, and where the brook the
Speaker 8: road way crossed. The daisy kept on me its eye.
Speaker 8: And when I stooped to bathe my face and seat
Speaker 8: me at a great tree's foot, I heard the stream say,
Speaker 8: mark the place and under mine it, rock and root
Speaker 8: and o'er the whirling water. There a dragon fly its
Speaker 8: shuttle plied where wild the fern let down its hair
Speaker 8: and leaned to see the water's pride. A speckled trout,
Speaker 8: the spotted elf whom I had come so far to sea,
Speaker 8: stretched out above a rocky shelf, a shadow sleeping mockingly.
Speaker 8: And I have sat here half the day regarding it.
Speaker 8: It has not stirred. I heard the running water say
Speaker 8: he does not know the magic word, the word that
Speaker 8: changes everything and brings all nature to his hand, that
Speaker 8: makes of this great trout a king, and opes the
Speaker 8: way to fairyland, and of poem. This recording is in
Speaker 8: the public domain.
Speaker 1: Trees by Joyce Kilmer, read for Librevox dot Org by
Speaker 1: Larry Wilson. I think that I shall never see a
Speaker 1: poem lovely as a tree, A tree whose hungry mouth
Speaker 1: is pressed against the sweet Earth's hungry breast. A tree
Speaker 1: that looks at God all day and lefts sir leafy
Speaker 1: arms to pray. A tree that may, in summer wear
Speaker 1: a nest of robins in her hair, upon whose bosom
Speaker 1: snow has lain, who intimately lives with ra Poems are
Speaker 1: made by fools like me. But only God can make
Speaker 1: a tree poetry. A magazine of verse in the poem
Speaker 1: this recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 9: In the Hospital by Arthur Geeterman read for librivostodorg by
Speaker 9: Adrian Stephens. Because on the branch that is tapping my pane,
Speaker 9: a sun wakened leaf, bud uncurled, is bursting its rusty
Speaker 9: brown sheathing. In Twain, I know there is spring in
Speaker 9: the world, because through the sky patch, whose azure and
Speaker 9: white my window frames all the day long, a yellow
Speaker 9: bird dips for an instant of flight. I know there
Speaker 9: is song, because even here in this mansion of woe,
Speaker 9: where reep the dull hours leaden shod, compassion and tenderness
Speaker 9: aid me, I know there is God. Scribner's Arthur Ghittermun
Speaker 9: end of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 9: Love of Life by Tertius van Dyck read for librivos
Speaker 9: dot org by Adrian Stephens. Love you not the tall
Speaker 9: trees spreading wide, their branches, cooling with their green shade
Speaker 9: the sunny days of June. Love you not the little
Speaker 9: bird lost among the leaflets, dreamingly repeating a quaint brief tune.
Speaker 9: Is there not a joy in the waste, windy places?
Speaker 9: Is there not a song by the long dusty way?
Speaker 9: Is there not a glory in the sudden hour of struggle?
Speaker 9: Is there not a peace in the long quiet day?
Speaker 9: Love you not the meadows with the deep, lush grasses.
Speaker 9: Love you not the cloud flocks, noiseless in their flight.
Speaker 9: Love you not the cool wind that stirs to meet
Speaker 9: the sunrise. Love you not the stillness of the warm
Speaker 9: summer night. Have you never wept with a grief that
Speaker 9: slowly passes? Have you never laughed when a joy goes
Speaker 9: running by? Know you not the peace of rest that
Speaker 9: follows labor. You have not learnt to live? Then? How
Speaker 9: can you dare to die? Scribner's Tertius van Dyke end
Speaker 9: of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 10: God's Will by Mildred Howls Bred for Librevaks dar Dog.
Speaker 10: God meant me to be hungry, so I should seek
Speaker 10: to find wisdom and truth and beauty to satisfy my mind.
Speaker 10: God meant me to be lonely, lest I should wish
Speaker 10: to stay in some green, earthly eden, too long from
Speaker 10: heaven away.
Speaker 11: God meant me to.
Speaker 10: Be weary, that I should yearn to rest this feeble
Speaker 10: aching body deep in the Earth's dark breast. And of poem.
Speaker 10: This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 12: On the Birth of a Child by Lewis Untermire read
Speaker 12: for LibriVox dot org by Kathleen bond Lo to the
Speaker 12: battle ground of life, Child, you have come, like a
Speaker 12: conquering shout, out of a struggle into strife, out of
Speaker 12: a darkness, into doubt, girt with the fragile armor of youth. Child,
Speaker 12: you must ride into endless wars with the sword of protest,
Speaker 12: the buckler of truth, and a banner of love to
Speaker 12: sweep the stars about you. The world's despair will surge
Speaker 12: into defeat. You must plunge and grope. Be to the
Speaker 12: faltering and urge. Be to the hopeless years, a hope,
Speaker 12: be to the darken'd world aflame, be to its unconcern
Speaker 12: a blow, for out of its pain and tumult you came,
Speaker 12: and into its tumult and pain you go. And of recording.
Speaker 12: This poem is in the public domain.
Speaker 13: To a Child Falling Asleep by Robert Olden Sanborn read
Speaker 13: philibrivox dot org by Rachel May. Over the dim edge
Speaker 13: of sleep, I lean and in her eyes illimitable gray distances,
Speaker 13: look down into the shadow tinted space, the cloudy air
Speaker 13: of sleep, to see the rose lit petal of a
Speaker 13: child's fair soul, seek dreamily the father gloom, where waking
Speaker 13: eyes may follow her no more, One more last time.
Speaker 13: Her lids are lifted, and in her look I read
Speaker 13: a wistful fairly well. Her spirit waves a twinkling white hand.
Speaker 13: Her bark is out upon the sea of dream, the
Speaker 13: calm Gracie, full and immovably established, that drinks the river
Speaker 13: of my love. Without her flowing, nor ever gives my
Speaker 13: image back to me. When oath's sun swept land, murmuring
Speaker 13: twilight spread her dusky tent, a stranger passed before our
Speaker 13: friendly sun, between the dark and dawn, a stranger whom
Speaker 13: we loved but never see. And as she came and
Speaker 13: cast her blue, benignant shadow over all, she set a
Speaker 13: silver trumpet to her lips and blew a note that
Speaker 13: thrilled in children's hearts, because in little hearts the echo
Speaker 13: fairies love to play, roaming the scented meadows there where
Speaker 13: love has been and sown, the amaranthine flowers, out of
Speaker 13: whose pristine cups are borne the singing stars. And as
Speaker 13: the first free rainbow bubble sailed, launched by the stranger
Speaker 13: with the silver pipe upon the listening air. As first
Speaker 13: the hollow note kissed the sweet lips and died of happiness,
Speaker 13: the little child unfilled her sails. I stood there on
Speaker 13: the very verge of sleep and called to her. And
Speaker 13: Love's own self had deigned to wait within my heart,
Speaker 13: because I kept it always fit for childish guests, and
Speaker 13: would have given welcome had she stayed. But then I
Speaker 13: saw the eyelids close, and knew that Azrael, who championed
Speaker 13: her soul, had shut the gates lest I should see
Speaker 13: more than my life could bear. Yet I had seen
Speaker 13: her go, and sight no more could hold of Beauty's whine.
Speaker 13: I had seen the fair face flush as the soft
Speaker 13: curtains of the tinted west are drawn before the temple
Speaker 13: of the night, when the day worn sun has passed within,
Speaker 13: had seen the little body, whitely gowned, folded within its nest,
Speaker 13: had caught the last light kiss before the lips lay still.
Speaker 13: And I had looked into the cool, gray deep, where
Speaker 13: Sleep received the rose leaf soul of her and bore
Speaker 13: it out upon her gentle waters. Into the night I passed,
Speaker 13: where on the mellow bosom of the west floated the
Speaker 13: flame lit shell of Hesperus, And as I stayed with
Speaker 13: hallowed breath, the soul of fire fell over the rim
Speaker 13: of night. And then I knew the soul of her
Speaker 13: I loved, had heard the last clear call, the low
Speaker 13: elesian chant of Hesperus, and loving me had borne the
Speaker 13: love I gave out beyond and over all ends of earth,
Speaker 13: And where the altar flame of Venus burned, had laid
Speaker 13: the gift and breathed her childhood's prayer. End of poem.
Speaker 13: This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 1: A Roman doll by Agnes Lee, read for LibriVox dot
Speaker 1: org by Larry Wilson in a museum. How an image
Speaker 1: of paint and wood leaped to her life with a
Speaker 1: love's control, struck the chords of her motherhood, passionate little
Speaker 1: mother soul, fair to her sight, where the stolid eyes
Speaker 1: dear to her toil, the robes impearled. She cooned it
Speaker 1: the agent lullabies. She gathered it close from the outer world.
Speaker 1: They watched together, as Nero's pires fed the haze of
Speaker 1: a hundred fires. Me in her fresh young arms. She
Speaker 1: bore see, I am small, only a doll, but I
Speaker 1: keep her kiss forevermore, long and lonely. The toy has
Speaker 1: lain one by one into time's abyss. Years have dropped
Speaker 1: as the drops of rain. Yet the cycles have left
Speaker 1: us this, Oh red lived mother, Oh mother, Sweet to day.
Speaker 1: A sister has heard you call. Your heart is beating
Speaker 1: in her heart beat. I saw her weep o'er the
Speaker 1: crumbling doll. She knew, she knew you had lived and smiled,
Speaker 1: you had loved your dream little Roman child me and
Speaker 1: her fresh young arms she bore see. I am small,
Speaker 1: only a doll, but I keep her kiss forevermore in deporm.
Speaker 1: This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 2: Sappho by Sarah Teesdale read philipprivox dot org Bow mapstone.
Speaker 2: Midnight and in the darkness not a sound, So with
Speaker 2: hushed breathing sleeps the autumn night. Only the white immortal
Speaker 2: stars shall know. Here in the house, by the low
Speaker 2: lintled door, how for the last time I have lit
Speaker 2: the lamp. I think you are not wholly careless. Now,
Speaker 2: walls that have sheltered me so many an hour bed
Speaker 2: that has brought me ecstasy and sleep, floors that have
Speaker 2: borne me when a gale of joy lifted my soul
Speaker 2: and made me half a god. Farewell across the threshold.
Speaker 2: Many feet shall pass, but never Sappho's feet again. Girls
Speaker 2: shall come in whom love has made aware of all
Speaker 2: their swaying beauty. They shall sing, but never Sappho's voice.
Speaker 2: Like golden fire, shall seek for heaven through your echoing rafters.
Speaker 2: There shall be sparrows bringing back the spring o'er the
Speaker 2: long blue meadows of the sea, and south wind playing
Speaker 2: on the reeds of rain, But never Sappho's whisper in
Speaker 2: the night, never her love cry. When the lover comes, farewell,
Speaker 2: I close the door and make it fast. The little
Speaker 2: street lies meek beneath the moon, running as rivers run
Speaker 2: to meet the sea. I too go seaward and shall
Speaker 2: not return. Oh garlands on the door posts that I pass,
Speaker 2: woven of asters and of autumn leaves, I make a
Speaker 2: prayer for you, Cyprius, be kind, that every lover may
Speaker 2: be given love. I shall not hasten, lest the paving
Speaker 2: stones should echo with my sandals, and awake those who
Speaker 2: are worn beneath the cloak of sleep, lest they should
Speaker 2: rise and see me, and should say, whither goes Sappho?
Speaker 2: Lonely in the night whither goes Sappho. Whither all men go,
Speaker 2: for they go driven, straining back with fear, And Sappho
Speaker 2: goes as lightly as a leaf blown from brown autumn
Speaker 2: forests to the sea. Here on the rocks, use lifted
Speaker 2: from the waves. I shall awake the waking of the dawn,
Speaker 2: lying beneath the weight, as dark as one lies, breathless
Speaker 2: till the lover shall awake, and with the sun the
Speaker 2: sea shall cover me. I shall be less than the
Speaker 2: dissolving foam, murmuring and melting on the ebbing tide. I
Speaker 2: shall be less than spendthrift, less than shells. And yet
Speaker 2: I shall be greater than the gods. For destiny no
Speaker 2: more can bow my soul rain bows down the watch
Speaker 2: fires on the hills. Yea, if my soul escape, it
Speaker 2: shall aspire toward the white heaven as flame that has
Speaker 2: its will. I go not bitterly, nor doumb with grief,
Speaker 2: not broken by the ache of love. I go as
Speaker 2: one grown tired, lies down and hopes to sleep. Yet
Speaker 2: they shall say it was for Circulus. She died because
Speaker 2: she could not bear her love. They shall remember how
Speaker 2: we used to walk here on the cliff beneath the oleanders,
Speaker 2: in the long limpid twilight of the spring, looking towards Chios,
Speaker 2: where the amber's sky was pierced by the faint arrow
Speaker 2: of a star. How should they know the wind of
Speaker 2: a new beauty sweeping My soul had winnowed it with song.
Speaker 2: I have been glad, though love should come or go,
Speaker 2: happy as trees that find a wind to sway them
Speaker 2: happy again when it has left them rest. Others shall
Speaker 2: say grave Deeca wrought her death. She would not lift
Speaker 2: her lips to take a kiss, or ever lift her
Speaker 2: eyes to take a smile. She was a pool the
Speaker 2: winter pathes with ice, that the wild hunter in the
Speaker 2: hills must leave with thirst unslaked. In the brief southward
Speaker 2: sun Ah Deeca, it is not for thee I go,
Speaker 2: and not for Phaeon, though his ship lifts sail here
Speaker 2: in the windless harbor. For the south, Oh, darkling deities
Speaker 2: that guard the Nile, watch over one whose god is
Speaker 2: far away Egypt, be kind to him. His eyes are deep.
Speaker 2: Yet they are wrong who say it was for him?
Speaker 2: How should they know that Sappho lived and died faithful
Speaker 2: to love, not faithful to the lover, never transfused and
Speaker 2: lost in what she loved. Never so wholly loving, nor
Speaker 2: at peace. I asked for something greater than I found,
Speaker 2: And every time that love has made me weep, I
Speaker 2: have rejoiced that love could be so strong. For I
Speaker 2: have stood apart and watched my soul caught in the
Speaker 2: gust of passion, as a bird with baffled wings against
Speaker 2: the dusty whirlwind, struggles and frees itself to find the sky.
Speaker 2: It is not for a single god I go. I
Speaker 2: have grown weary of the winds of heaven. I will
Speaker 2: not be a reed to hold the sound of whatsoever
Speaker 2: breath the gods may blow, turning my torment into music.
Speaker 2: For them they gave me life. The gift was bountiful.
Speaker 2: I lived with the swift, singing strength of fire, seeking
Speaker 2: for beauty, as a flame for fuel, beauty in all things,
Speaker 2: and in every hour the gods have given life. I
Speaker 2: gave them song. The debt is paid, and now I
Speaker 2: turn to go. The breath of dawn blows the stars
Speaker 2: out like lamps. There is a rim of silver on
Speaker 2: the sea. As one grown tired who hopes to sleep,
Speaker 2: I go Scribner's and of poem. This recording is in
Speaker 2: the public domain of Moira Up the Glen by Edward J.
Speaker 2: O'Brien read Forlibrivox dot Org by Alamapstone. It's little that
Speaker 2: I'd care for the glories of Ireland, waiting for the
Speaker 2: shadows to gather in the glen come the time of darkness,
Speaker 2: sitting by the hearth light, whispering with bated breath for
Speaker 2: fear the little men should catch us and spell us
Speaker 2: to serve them for a year is time toiling and
Speaker 2: moiling within a fairy snare. I'm thinking to be fearsome
Speaker 2: in the gray, misty strangeness tis hiding. Will be in
Speaker 2: the clear, free air, the sunlight above us, and willow
Speaker 2: hedge for shelter, a tangle of soft things to rustle
Speaker 2: by the stream, where Moira, my white dove, whose beauty
Speaker 2: is my sorrow, would sit with me and travel on
Speaker 2: the long bright dream, travel with the water from the
Speaker 2: mountainto the meadow, down across the lowlands and the gaily
Speaker 2: to the sea, out beyond the breakers, to the shimmer
Speaker 2: of a far line, poised and trembling within the heart
Speaker 2: of me. What shall I murmur to coax the dream
Speaker 2: of beauty out from the shadows to welcome in the dawn.
Speaker 2: How shall I sing it that she may know the glory,
Speaker 2: know it and come by the first flush of morn.
Speaker 2: The moonlight is dark light tis fear. I'm after feeling.
Speaker 2: The fairies should be in it and steal her heart
Speaker 2: away a goblet for their feasting. They drain it and
Speaker 2: fill it with dreams of a far world beyond the
Speaker 2: light of day. It's God's light, I'm wanting and Moira
Speaker 2: to see it, see it, and tremble with the love
Speaker 2: of God. And seeing it, she'd turn and look within
Speaker 2: my own eyes and wonder at the vision, transforming a
Speaker 2: sought into worshipful silence and thought that is living, burning,
Speaker 2: and shaped by the warmth of its fire, to a
Speaker 2: chalice of tears and of laughter. For singing the lovely
Speaker 2: unfolding of dream purged desire smart set end of poem.
Speaker 2: This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 14: Morning Glories by John J. Nhart red for LibriVox dot
Speaker 14: Org by Aaron Grassy. Distant as a dream's flight lay
Speaker 14: an eerie plain, where the weary moonlight swooned into a
Speaker 14: moan wailing. After dead seed came the ghost of rain.
Speaker 14: There was I a wild weed growing all alone, like
Speaker 14: a doubted story. Came the thought of day God and
Speaker 14: all his glory lingered otherwhere, busy with the spring thrill,
Speaker 14: many dreams away. Could a little weed's will fling so
Speaker 14: far a prayer? Lo the sudden wonder is a prayer,
Speaker 14: so fleet from the desert under morning glories grew twined me,
Speaker 14: bound me with caressing feet, wove song round me, pink,
Speaker 14: white blue, as a fog is rifted by the eager breeze.
Speaker 14: Darkness broke and lifted, tossing like a sea.
Speaker 4: Lo.
Speaker 14: The dawn was flowering through the maple trees.
Speaker 5: Oh, and you.
Speaker 14: Were showering kisses over me.
Speaker 9: End of poem.
Speaker 14: This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 10: Lest I learn by Witter Binner Red for LibriVox dot org.
Speaker 10: Lest I learn with clearer sight such beauty cannot be
Speaker 10: tie a bandage, pull it tight, blind me I would
Speaker 10: not see. Lest I learn with clearer will such wonder
Speaker 10: cannot be. Oh, kiss me nearer, nearer still, and make
Speaker 10: a fool of me and of poem. This recording is
Speaker 10: in the public domain.
Speaker 11: Later by Willard Huntington Wright read for librivocx by Stephen J.
Speaker 11: Bettaglia I went to the place where my youth took birth,
Speaker 11: in the slow, round kiss of an amorous girl, when
Speaker 11: sonnets and lace were the measure of earth, when death
Speaker 11: was forgotten and life was a whirl. I addled my
Speaker 11: brain with the memories flown of Heather Bey, Kaiser and
Speaker 11: Muriel More. I thought of the women and men I
Speaker 11: had known, the glittering eyes and the bolt on the door,
Speaker 11: the warm gray walls and the odor of musk, the wine,
Speaker 11: the piano, the glistening feet, the eyes grown hazy like
Speaker 11: shadows at dusk, the minstreling music that rose from the street.
Speaker 11: I thought of Elise with her soft gold hair, and
Speaker 11: the button hook hung from the chandelier. The spirit of
Speaker 11: passionate youth had been there, but somehow the dream of
Speaker 11: it wasn't quite clear, for the place had been altered.
Speaker 11: The walls were red, and the woodwork was stained with
Speaker 11: a desolate brown. And they told me a woman had
Speaker 11: lain in the bed for a year and a half
Speaker 11: with the curtains down. End of poem. This recording is
Speaker 11: in the public domain.
Speaker 9: The Old Maid by Sarah Teasdale read philipprivost dot Org
Speaker 9: by Adrian Stephens. I saw her in a Broadway car
Speaker 9: the woman I might grow to be. I felt my
Speaker 9: lover look at her, and then turned suddenly to me.
Speaker 9: Her hair was dull and drew no light, and yet
Speaker 9: its color was as mine. Her eyes were strangely like
Speaker 9: my eyes, though love had never made them shine. Her
Speaker 9: body was a thing grown thin, hungry for love that
Speaker 9: never came. Her soul was frozen in the dark, unwarmed
Speaker 9: forever by love's flame. I felt my lover look at her,
Speaker 9: and then turn suddenly to me. His eyes were magic
Speaker 9: to defy the woman I shall never be The Forum,
Speaker 9: Sarah Teasdale. End of poem. This recording is in the
Speaker 9: public domain.
Speaker 15: Departure by John Hall Welock, read for LibriVox dot org
Speaker 15: by Rowan Patagill. The Twilight starred, The dawn has arisen.
Speaker 15: Light breaks from the east, and song from her prison,
Speaker 15: faint odors and sounds. The west wind discloses of laughter
Speaker 15: and birds, of singing and roses. It is time to
Speaker 15: be gone. Days scatters the gloom, but hear at my side,
Speaker 15: but still in the room, like the angel of life,
Speaker 15: too kind to depart. You hang at my lips, you
Speaker 15: hang at my heart. End of poem. This recording is
Speaker 15: in the public domain.
Speaker 16: An Adieu by Florence Earl Coats read for librevox dot
Speaker 16: Org by Rowan Patagill. Sorrow quit me for a while,
Speaker 16: wintry days are over. Hope again with apel, smile, violets,
Speaker 16: sows and clover. Pleasure follows in her path. Love itself
Speaker 16: flies after, and the book a music hath sweet as
Speaker 16: childhood's laughter. Not a bird upon the bough can repress
Speaker 16: its rapture, not a bud that blossoms now, but of
Speaker 16: beauty capture sorrow. Thou art Winter's mate Spring cannot regret
Speaker 16: thee yet. Ah Yet, my friend of late, I shall
Speaker 16: not forget thee end of poem. This recording is in
Speaker 16: the public domain.
Speaker 9: Hearts Tied by ethel M. Hewitt read for librivoxtot Org
Speaker 9: by Adrian Stephens. I thought I had forgotten you so
Speaker 9: far apart. Our lives were thrust twas only as the
Speaker 9: earth forgets the seat the sower left in try, twas
Speaker 9: only as the creeks forget the tides that left their
Speaker 9: hollows dry, or as the home bound ship forgets streamers
Speaker 9: of seaweed drifting by My heart is Earth that keeps untold,
Speaker 9: the secret of the seeds that sleep. My thoughts are
Speaker 9: chalices of sand. Your memory floods them, and I weep
Speaker 9: Harper's ethel m Hewett and a poem. This recording is
Speaker 9: in public domain.
Speaker 17: Waiting by Charles Handsome Tone read for Liveryvox dot org
Speaker 17: by Kayla Jones. I thought my heart would break because
Speaker 17: the spring was slow, I said, how long in april
Speaker 17: sleeps beneath the snow. But when at last she came
Speaker 17: and buds broke into dew, I dreamed of my last love,
Speaker 17: and my heart broke too. End of poem. This recording
Speaker 17: is in the public domain. Desiderium by Richard Leigh Galien
Speaker 17: read proliverybox dot Org by Kayla Jones. Faced in the
Speaker 17: tomb that lies so still, May I draw near and
Speaker 17: watch you sleep, and love you without word or tear
Speaker 17: you smile, your eyelids flicker. Shall I tell how the
Speaker 17: world goes that lost you? Shall I tell I love
Speaker 17: not your eyelids? Tis the same old story that we
Speaker 17: laugh at, Still, the same we knew it, you and
Speaker 17: I we knew it all still is the smaller, the great,
Speaker 17: the great, the small. Still the cold light quenches the
Speaker 17: flaming truth, and still in battle age wars against you.
Speaker 17: Yet I believe still in the living God that fills
Speaker 17: your grave with perfume, writing your name and violence across
Speaker 17: the sod, shielding your holy face from hail and snow.
Speaker 17: And though the withered stay, the lovely go, no transitory
Speaker 17: wrong or wrath of things shatters to faith that each
Speaker 17: slow minute brings the meadow near to us. For your
Speaker 17: feet shall flutter near me like white butterflies, that meadow
Speaker 17: where mortal lovers meet, gazing forever and immortal eyes. End
Speaker 17: of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Human
Speaker 17: by Richard Burton read for Liveryvox dot Org by Kayla Jones.
Speaker 17: Weighed down by grief or born by deep despair, she
Speaker 17: lifted up white arms to heaven and prayed that day
Speaker 17: for death. She made a mighty prayer beside her dear one,
Speaker 17: gently to be laid in standing dust. It flashed across
Speaker 17: her mind. How she must make a seemly silhouette against
Speaker 17: the sky, her figure sharply lined upon a western sunlight,
Speaker 17: black as deet in the poem. This recording is in
Speaker 17: the public domain.
Speaker 11: The Ghost by Hermann Hagadorn read for LibriVox by Stephen J. Bettaglia.
Speaker 11: One whom I loved and never can forget, returned to
Speaker 11: me in dream and spoke with me as audibly, as
Speaker 11: sweet familiarly, as though warm fingers twined warm fingers. Yet
Speaker 11: her eyes were bright and with great wonder, wet as
Speaker 11: in old days when some strange, swift decree brought touch
Speaker 11: close love or death, and sorrow free. She spoke as
Speaker 11: one long purged of all regret. I heard, Oh, glad
Speaker 11: beyond all speech, I heard till to my lips the
Speaker 11: flaming query flashed, how is it over there? Then quite undone,
Speaker 11: she trembled in her deep eyes like a bird. The
Speaker 11: gladness fluttered, and as one abashed, she shook her head, bewildered,
Speaker 11: and was gone. End of poem. This recording is in
Speaker 11: the public domain. A Mountain Gateway by Bliss Carmen read
Speaker 11: for LibriVox by Stephen J. Pattaglia. I know a veil
Speaker 11: where I would go one day when June comes back,
Speaker 11: and all the world once more is glad with summer,
Speaker 11: deep with shade. It lies a mighty cleft in the
Speaker 11: green Bosoming hills, a cool dim gateway to the mountain's heart.
Speaker 11: On either side, the wooded slopes come down, hemlock and
Speaker 11: beech and chestnut. Here and there through the deep forest,
Speaker 11: laurel spreads and gleams, pink white as Daphne in her loveliness,
Speaker 11: that still perfection, from the world, withdrawn, as if the
Speaker 11: wood gods had arrested their immortal beauty in her breathless
Speaker 11: flight far overhead against the arching blue gray ledges overhang
Speaker 11: from dizzy heights, scarred by a thousand winters and untamed.
Speaker 11: The road winds in from the broad river lands, luring
Speaker 11: the happy traveler turn by turn up to the lofty
Speaker 11: mountains of the sky, and where the road runs in
Speaker 11: the valley's foot through the dark woods, the mountain stream
Speaker 11: comes down, singing and dancing all its youth away among
Speaker 11: the boulders, in the shallow runs, where sunbeams pierce and
Speaker 11: mossy tree trunks hang, drenched all day long with murmuring sound,
Speaker 11: and there light of heart and foot free. I would
Speaker 11: go up to my home among the lasting hills, and
Speaker 11: in my cabin doorway sit me down, companioned in that
Speaker 11: leafy solitude by the wood ghosts of twilight. And of peace,
Speaker 11: And in that sweet seclusion I should hear among the
Speaker 11: cool leaved beeches in the dusk, the calm voiced thrushes
Speaker 11: at their evening hymn, so undistraught, so rapturous, so pure
Speaker 11: it well might be in wisdom and in joy, the
Speaker 11: seraphs singing at the birth of time, the unworn ritual
Speaker 11: of eternal things. End of poem. This recording is in
Speaker 11: the public domain.
Speaker 12: Perusia by Amelia Josephine Barr read for LibriVox dot Org
Speaker 12: by Kathleen Bond. For the sake of a weathered gray city,
Speaker 12: set high on a hill to the northward, I go
Speaker 12: where Umbria's valley lies, mile upon emerald, mile, outspread like
Speaker 12: a chart. The wind in her steep narrow streets is
Speaker 12: eternally chill from the neighboring snow. But linger, who will,
Speaker 12: in the lure of a southerly smile. Here is my
Speaker 12: heart wrought to a mutual blueness. Are mountains and sky
Speaker 12: intermingling they meet. Little gray breathings of olive arise from
Speaker 12: the plain, like sighs that are seen for man and
Speaker 12: his maker. Harmonious toil, and the sigh of such labor
Speaker 12: is sweet, and the fruits of their patients are vistas
Speaker 12: of vineyards and grain in a glory of green. No
Speaker 12: wind from the valley that passes the casement, but lings
Speaker 12: invisible flowers. The carol of birds is a gossamer tissue
Speaker 12: of gold on a background of bells. Sweetest of all
Speaker 12: in the silence, the nightingale sings through the silver pure
Speaker 12: hours till the stars disappear, like a dream that may
Speaker 12: never be told, which the dawning dispels, never so darkling
Speaker 12: the alley, but opens at last on unlimited space. Each
Speaker 12: gate is the frame of a vision that stretches away
Speaker 12: to the rims of the sky, never a scar that
Speaker 12: was left by the pitiless past, but has taken a grace,
Speaker 12: like the mark of a smile that was turned upon
Speaker 12: children at play in a summer gone by.
Speaker 18: Many.
Speaker 12: The tyrants my city who held thee in thrall, what
Speaker 12: remains of them now eames whispered back from the dark
Speaker 12: through a portal ajar. They come not again by men,
Speaker 12: Thou wert made and wert marred. But outlasting them all
Speaker 12: is the soul that ist thou, a soul that shall
Speaker 12: speak to my soul till I too pass afar, and
Speaker 12: perchance even then end of poem. This recording is in
Speaker 12: the public domain.
Speaker 7: Ghosts by Marguerite Moore's Marshal read for Lippyfox dot Org
Speaker 7: by M. Lee. They call you cold New England, But
Speaker 7: underneath your snow is blood as red as roses that
Speaker 7: in your gardens blow the God that lights your forces
Speaker 7: with porch of cardinal flower, forbids that ever the pureitan
Speaker 7: escape his crimson hour. The flame that skims brown furrows
Speaker 7: the scarlet Tennat's breast is signed to preacher and plowmen
Speaker 7: of dreams that haunt their rest. When witch and warlock
Speaker 7: perished by faggot scaffolding tree, their tortures slew their bodies,
Speaker 7: but set their spirits free in freedom, gliding gloating through
Speaker 7: the haunts their children claim. The swallen ghosts of the
Speaker 7: wicked grow fat on new wrought shame, the old sweet
Speaker 7: evil lingers. The demon of uncontrol and madness creeps and
Speaker 7: crouches in every haggard soul. And he who held moon
Speaker 7: revels in Salem forests deep well loves his hypocrite servants,
Speaker 7: nor seeks to spoil their sleep. They call you called
Speaker 7: New England. But surely even your snow is drift, not
Speaker 7: of ice, but of ashes to guard the flames below.
Speaker 7: And a poem. This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 19: Saint John and the Fawn by George Edward Woodbury read
Speaker 19: Philiproks dot Org by Rachel may Oh. Blessed imagination, bright
Speaker 19: power beneath man's lid, that in apparent beauty unveils the
Speaker 19: beauty hid in the gleaming of the instant abides the
Speaker 19: immortal thing. Our souls, that voyage and speaking press forward,
Speaker 19: wing and wing from every passing object, a brighter radiance pause.
Speaker 19: The leaf of our daily lives sweeps by eternal shawls.
Speaker 19: On the deep lower Moufi, where the long roll of
Speaker 19: the wave slowly breathed and slipped beneath me, to gray
Speaker 19: cliff and sounding cave came a boatload of dark fissures passed,
Speaker 19: and on the bright sea shone. There the vision of
Speaker 19: a moment I beheld the young Saint John at the stern.
Speaker 19: The boy stood, bending full his dreaming gaze on me.
Speaker 19: Inexorably spread between us flashed the blue strait of the sea,
Speaker 19: slowly receding, distant, distant, while my bosom scarce drew breath, dreaming,
Speaker 19: eyes on my eyes, dreaming holy beauty without death, in
Speaker 19: the cloudland Oramalfi, where with mists a deep ravine like
Speaker 19: a caldron, smoked and clearing, showed far down the pictured
Speaker 19: scene capes and bays and peaks and ocean, and the
Speaker 19: city like a gem set in circlets of paler zore
Speaker 19: that her beauty ring and hem Once returning from the
Speaker 19: chasm by the mountain's woodland way underneath the oak and chestnut,
Speaker 19: where I loved to make delay and dark, boys and
Speaker 19: girls with faggots would pass near on that wild lawn,
Speaker 19: and at times they brought me rosebuds.
Speaker 17: There.
Speaker 19: One day I saw a fawn. The wood was still
Speaker 19: with noontide, the very trees seemed lone, when from a
Speaker 19: neighboring thicket his moon eyes on me, shone, motionless and
Speaker 19: bright and staring, and with a startled grace, as nature
Speaker 19: wildly magical was the beauty of his face, and as
Speaker 19: some gentle creature that curious has fear dumb. He stood
Speaker 19: and gazed upon me, but did not venture near. And
Speaker 19: I moved not nor motioned, nor gave him any sign,
Speaker 19: nor broke the momentary spell of the old world, divine love,
Speaker 19: with no other agent save communion by the eye. Evoked
Speaker 19: from those bright creatures are secret unity there, flowering from
Speaker 19: the old ages, hung on time's blossoming stem. All that
Speaker 19: fairest was in me, or loveliest in them, And truly
Speaker 19: it was happiness. And to a poet's heart to find
Speaker 19: that living in his breast, which is immortal art end
Speaker 19: of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 9: School by Percy Mackay, read for librevokxstat Org by Adrian Stephens.
Speaker 9: One old Hezekaha leaned hard on his hoe and squinted
Speaker 9: long at Eban, his lanth son. The silent shrilled with
Speaker 9: crickets that he was done, And row on dusky row
Speaker 9: tall bean poles ripped with dark, the gold bright after glow.
Speaker 9: Eban stood staring one by one. The tendril tops turned
Speaker 9: ashen as they flared. Still Ebon stared, Oh, there is
Speaker 9: wonder on New Hampshire hills, hoeing the warm, bright furrows
Speaker 9: of brown earth. And there is grandeur in the stone
Speaker 9: wall's berth, and in the sweat that spills from rugged
Speaker 9: toil its sweetness. Yet for wild young wills. There is
Speaker 9: no dew of wonder, but stark dearth in one old
Speaker 9: man who hose his long bean rose, and only hose.
Speaker 9: Old Hezekah turned slow on his heel, he touched his
Speaker 9: son through all the carking day. There are so many
Speaker 9: littleish cares to weigh large natures down and steel the
Speaker 9: heart of understanding sun? How ist ye feel? What are
Speaker 9: ye staring?
Speaker 19: On?
Speaker 5: A gal a ray.
Speaker 9: Flushed ebon from the fading afterglow. He dropped his hoe.
Speaker 9: He dropped his hoe, but suddenly stooped again and raised
Speaker 9: it where it fell nothing. He spoke, but bent his
Speaker 9: knee and crack. The handle broke, splintering with glare of pain.
Speaker 9: He flung the pieces down and stamped upon them. Then,
Speaker 9: like one who leaps out naked from his cloak, ran here,
Speaker 9: come back. Where are you bound, you fool? He cried
Speaker 9: to school two. Now on the mountain morning laughed with light,
Speaker 9: with lightened all the future in her face, For there
Speaker 9: she looked on many a far off place and wild
Speaker 9: adventurous sight, for which the mad young autumn wind hallowed
Speaker 9: with might and dared the roaring mill brook to the race,
Speaker 9: where blue jays screamed beyond the pine dark pool to
Speaker 9: school to school. Black coated Ebon took the barefoot trail,
Speaker 9: holding with wary hand his sunday boots. Harsh catbirds mocked
Speaker 9: his whistling with their hoots under his swallow tail, against
Speaker 9: his hip strap, bumping clinked his dinner pail. Frost maples flamed,
Speaker 9: lone thrushes touched their lutes. Gray squirrels bobbed with tail
Speaker 9: stiff curved backs to eye his tracks. Soon, at the
Speaker 9: lonely cross roads, he passed by the little one room schoolhouse.
Speaker 9: He peered in. There stood the bench where he had
Speaker 9: often been admonished flagrantly to drone his numbers. Now to
Speaker 9: this he said goodbye for mightier lure of more romantic scene,
Speaker 9: good Bye to childish rule and homely chow for evermore.
Speaker 9: All day he hastened like the flying cloud breathless above him,
Speaker 9: big with dreams, yet dumb. With tightened jaw, he chewed
Speaker 9: the tart spruce gum and muttered half aloud, huge oracles.
Speaker 9: At last, where through the pine tops bowed the sun,
Speaker 9: it rose his heart beat like a drum, And there
Speaker 9: it rose his tower of prophecy, the Academy, three, they
Speaker 9: learned to live, who learn to contemplate? For contemplation is
Speaker 9: the unconfined God who creates us to the growing mind.
Speaker 9: Freedom to think is fate, And all that age and
Speaker 9: after knowledge augurate lies in a little dream of youth
Speaker 9: enshrined that dream to nourish with the skillful rule of
Speaker 9: love is school. Ebon, in mystic tumult of his teens
Speaker 9: stood bursting like a ripe seed into soul. All his
Speaker 9: long life he had watched the great hills roll their shadows,
Speaker 9: tints and sheens by sun and moonrise. Yet the bane
Speaker 9: of hoeing beans and the round joyless chores his father's
Speaker 9: toll blotted their beauty. Nature was as naught, he had
Speaker 9: never thought. But now he climbed his boyhood's castle tower
Speaker 9: and knocked ah. Well, then for his after fate, that
Speaker 9: one of nature's masters opened the gate, where like an
Speaker 9: april shower, live influence quickened all his earth blind seed
Speaker 9: to power. Strangely, his sense of truth grew passionate, and
Speaker 9: like a young bull led in yoke to drink, he
Speaker 9: bowed to think. There also bowed their heads with him
Speaker 9: to quaff. The snorting herd, and many a wholesome grip
Speaker 9: he had of rivalry and fellowship. Often the game was rough,
Speaker 9: but Ebon tossed his horns and never balked the cough.
Speaker 9: For still, through play and task, his dream would slip
Speaker 9: a radiant herdsman guiding us to his degree. Four. Once more,
Speaker 9: old Hezekiah stayed his hoe to squint at Ebon. Silent,
Speaker 9: Ebon scanned a little roll of sheepskin in his hand,
Speaker 9: while row on dusky row tall bean poles ripped with
Speaker 9: dark the gold pale afterglow. The boy looked up. Here
Speaker 9: was another land, mountain and farm with mystic beauty flared.
Speaker 9: Where Ebon stared stooping, He lifted, with a furtive smile
Speaker 9: two splintered sticks, and spliced them. Never more his spirit
Speaker 9: would go beastwise to his chore, blinded, For even while
Speaker 9: he stooped to the old task. Sudden in the sunset's pile,
Speaker 9: his radiant herdsman swung her fiery door, through which came
Speaker 9: forth with far born trumpetings, poets and kings, his fellow
Speaker 9: no conquerors.
Speaker 18: There.
Speaker 9: Virgil dreamed, there Caesar fort and one the barbarous tribes. There,
Speaker 9: Darwin pensive bore the ignorant gibes, and one with thorns
Speaker 9: redeemed from malice. The wild hearts of men there surged
Speaker 9: and streamed with chemic fire, the forges of old scribes
Speaker 9: testing anew, the crucibles of toil to save God's soil.
Speaker 9: So Ebon turned again to hoe his beans, but now
Speaker 9: to ballads, which his herdsman sang. Henceforth he hoed the
Speaker 9: dream in which the dung and for his ancient spleens
Speaker 9: planting new joys. Imagination found him means. At last, Hezekiah
Speaker 9: loosed his tongue. While boy, this call, what has it
Speaker 9: learned ye to know? He said, to hoe the forum
Speaker 9: Percy Mackay end of poem. This recording is in the
Speaker 9: public domain.
Speaker 2: The Marvelous Munchausen by William Rose Bennett, red Forlibrivox dot
Speaker 2: Org by Alum Mapstone. The snug little room with its brazier, fire,
Speaker 2: aglow and pete and saxon room, all in the long ago, Oh,
Speaker 2: the very long ago. Or their pipes and hollands seen,
Speaker 2: and on the wall, the man o war and firelight
Speaker 2: on the screen, their flowered, bulging waistcoats that wrinkle when
Speaker 2: they chuckle. The barren much mustachioed and gay, with star
Speaker 2: and buckle and bristling, in a uniform as scarlet as
Speaker 2: his cheeks, with choker lace beneath his chin, and splendid
Speaker 2: yellow breeks. The smoke drifts blue and bluer through the window.
Speaker 2: All a breeze are glinting sky and gliss sea beyond
Speaker 2: the holland keys, blue tiles, red bricks, the bustling wharfs
Speaker 2: with colours oriflam starch caps and rosy posy cheeks, the
Speaker 2: girls of Amsterdam, the snug little room with its brazier
Speaker 2: fire aglow. Oh listen, will he tell them as he
Speaker 2: told them long ago, oh, very long ago, a laughing
Speaker 2: in his sleeve, the marvelous Munchausen with the fables, I believe.
Speaker 2: When I had sown the turkey beans that reached to
Speaker 2: the moon and lifted all Westminster in the sling from
Speaker 2: my balloon swung over the Atlantic, they peered from windows frantic,
Speaker 2: when eagle back I scanned the pole in broad eternal noon,
Speaker 2: in Queen Maud's chariot, I ventured on the sea, twas
Speaker 2: like a mammoth hazel nut with matchless oray a sparkle
Speaker 2: on its ceiling, with planets, systems wheeling and giddy comets
Speaker 2: sizzling all about the head of me. The nine bulls
Speaker 2: drew it as stout as those of crete, and all
Speaker 2: were shod with horrid skulls that clattered on their feet.
Speaker 2: Rich banners waved behind them, while on their backs to
Speaker 2: mind them, postilion crickets chirruped them, or chirping loud and
Speaker 2: sweet ghostop the cape I warn you of, for he
Speaker 2: is bottle blue. We split his table mountain. He gibbered,
Speaker 2: and he flew. The bulls straight showed this feature with
Speaker 2: gazing on the creature, stampeding in their harness. When I
Speaker 2: gave the view Halloo, though wrecked on Egypt's obelisks disaster,
Speaker 2: I defied and harness sphinx. The Emperor's gift to tow
Speaker 2: an arc is wide as great Westminster. With bow and
Speaker 2: belle and spinster and cleric clark and coronets, all tete
Speaker 2: a tete inside, good folks, we sail for Africa. I
Speaker 2: said to all my when bald Munchausen leads you forth,
Speaker 2: what laggard dare remain in slipper'd ease, uncarrying to share
Speaker 2: my deeds of dairy. Their cheers amazed my modesty and
Speaker 2: more than made me vain. The Sultan's bees I've shepherded,
Speaker 2: I've hornpiped at Marseilles, where got me down well nigh
Speaker 2: A drowned the liveliest of whales. I'm riskiest of riskers.
Speaker 2: But blow my grizzled whiskers. I cried, made jackals, nor
Speaker 2: my bones. If now Munchausen fails. By night, the lions
Speaker 2: roared at us. By day, the Simoums came and swept
Speaker 2: across our caravan in sandy clouds of flame, but naught
Speaker 2: dismayed our temper or the genio Afric Emperor had missed
Speaker 2: my handsome greeting to his long abiding shame the people
Speaker 2: of the mountains of the Moon. I wined and dined.
Speaker 2: I reigned at Gristaiska. When his just declined reforms, I
Speaker 2: wrought untiring with Gog and Maygog squiring and frosticos, my
Speaker 2: bosom friend who lent a legal mind for last superb achievements.
Speaker 2: Bright tears may be shed. I built a bridge from
Speaker 2: Africa to distant England. Spread no edifice of fable, nay
Speaker 2: not the Tower of Babel surpassed its mammoth glory in
Speaker 2: the heavens overed so back across its noble arch. My
Speaker 2: retinue and eye advanced with blaring trumpets through the regions
Speaker 2: of the sky. Clouds lingered to enreathe us, Earth's kingdoms
Speaker 2: far beneath us, and martial music cheered our march from
Speaker 2: all the birds that fly. The snout, little room with
Speaker 2: its brazier fire, aglow and pete and saxon room, or
Speaker 2: sleeping long ago, oh so very long ago, and show
Speaker 2: clean his sleeve, still o'er the slumbering table, drone droning
Speaker 2: on his fable, the marvelous Munchausen with the stories I
Speaker 2: believe century end poem. This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 20: Train Mats by Witterbeiner read for Libervox dot Org by Dacity,
Speaker 20: outside host Shasta, snowy height on height, a glory, but
Speaker 20: a negligible sight. For you had often seen a mountain peak,
Speaker 20: but not my paper. So we came to speak. A smoke,
Speaker 20: a smile, a good way to commence the comfortable exchange
Speaker 20: of difference. You a young engineer five feet eleven forty
Speaker 20: five chess with football in your heaven liking a roadbed
Speaker 20: newly built, and clean your fingers hot to cut away
Speaker 20: the green of brush and flowers that bring beside a track,
Speaker 20: the kind of beauty steel lines ought to lack. And
Speaker 20: I a poet, wistful of my betters, reading George Meredith's
Speaker 20: high hearted letters, joining between while in the mingled speech
Speaker 20: of a drummer, circus man and parson, each absorbing to
Speaker 20: himself as I to me and you to you, a
Speaker 20: glad identity. After a while, when the others went away,
Speaker 20: a curious kinship made us want to stay, which I
Speaker 20: could tell you now, But at the time you thought
Speaker 20: of baseball teams, and I of rhyme, until we found
Speaker 20: that we were college men, and smoked more easily, and
Speaker 20: smiled again. And I from Cambridge Gride, the poet. Still,
Speaker 20: I know your fine Greek theater on the hill at Berkeley,
Speaker 20: with your happy Grecian head upraised. I never saw the police,
Speaker 20: you said, once I was free of class. I always
Speaker 20: went out to the field, young engineer. You meant as
Speaker 20: fair a tribute to the better part as ever I did.
Speaker 20: Beauty of the heart is evident in temples, but it
Speaker 20: breeds alive where athletes quicken airy wreaths, which are the
Speaker 20: lovelier because they die. You are a poet quite as
Speaker 20: much as I, though differences appear in what we do,
Speaker 20: and I an athlete quite as much as you. Because
Speaker 20: you half surmised my quarter mile and I yr quatrain.
Speaker 20: We could agree and smile. Who knows, But we shall
Speaker 20: look again and find the circus man and drummer, not behind,
Speaker 20: but leading in our visible estate, as discus thrower and
Speaker 20: as latriate. End of poem. This recording is in the
Speaker 20: public domain.
Speaker 6: The Calliope Yell by Nicholas Rachel Lindsay read for LibriVox
Speaker 6: dot Org by Andrew Guns loudly and rapidly with a
Speaker 6: leader college yell of fashion one proud man, ern Lee,
Speaker 6: go about slander me, call me the Calliope Sizz Fizz.
Speaker 2: Two.
Speaker 6: I am the godd dream tune maker, born of steam,
Speaker 6: tooting joy, tooting Hope. I am the calliope car called
Speaker 6: the kaliop. Willy Willy, Willy Wahoo. See the flag, snow
Speaker 6: white tents, see the bear and elephants, see the monkey,
Speaker 6: jump the rope. Listen to the Calliope, Kaliope, Calliope, Soul
Speaker 6: of the rhinoceros and the hippopotamus. Listen to the lion roar,
Speaker 6: jaguar cockatoot, loons owl's hoot hoot. Listen to the lion roar.
Speaker 6: Listen to the lion roar. Listen to the lion r
Speaker 6: O A R Hear the leopard cry for gore, Willy
Speaker 6: Willy Willy Wahoo, Hail the bloody engine band, Hail, all
Speaker 6: Hail the popcorn stand, Hail to Barnum's picture. There people's
Speaker 6: idol everywhere. Whoop, whoop, whoop, whoop. Music of the mob
Speaker 6: and I circus days tremendous cry. I am the Kaliope, kaliope,
Speaker 6: kaliop Hoot, toot, hoot, toot, hoot, toot, hoot toot. Willy
Speaker 6: Willy Willy Wahoo, SiZ phizz three, born of mobs, born
Speaker 6: of steam. Listen to my golden dream. Listen to my
Speaker 6: golden dream. Listen to my g O L D E
Speaker 6: N D R E A M. Whoop, whoop, whoop, whoop.
Speaker 6: I will blow the proud folk low, humanize the dour
Speaker 6: and slow. I will shake the proud folk down. Listen
Speaker 6: to the lion roar. Popcorn crowds shall rule the town
Speaker 6: Willy Willy Willy Wahoo, steam shall work melodiously, brotherhood increase,
Speaker 6: You'll see the world and all it holds for fifty
Speaker 6: cents apiece, Willy Willy Willy Wahoo. Every day a circus day,
Speaker 6: what well, almost every day, never more the sweater's den,
Speaker 6: never more, the prison pen gone, the war on land,
Speaker 6: and see that of for time, troubled men, nations, all
Speaker 6: in amity, happy in their plumes, arrayed in the long
Speaker 6: bright street parade bands a playing every day, What well,
Speaker 6: almost every day, I am the Kaliope, Kaliope, kaliop, Willy
Speaker 6: Willy Willy Wahoo. Hoot toot, hoot, toot, whoop, whoop, whoop, whoop,
Speaker 6: Willy Willy Willy Wahoo, Sizz fizz four, every soul resident
Speaker 6: in the Earth's one circus tent. Every man a Trappi's king,
Speaker 6: then a police spectator. There on the benches in the ring,
Speaker 6: while the neighbors gock and stare, and the cheering rolls along.
Speaker 6: Almost every day a race when the merry starting gong rings,
Speaker 6: each chariot on the line, every driver fit and fine
Speaker 6: with the steel spring Roman grace. Almost every day a dream,
Speaker 6: almost every day, a dream, every girl made her wife
Speaker 6: wild with music, eyes a gleam, with that marvel called desire, actress, princess,
Speaker 6: fit for life, armed with honor like a knife, jumping
Speaker 6: through the hoops of fire. Listen to the lion roar,
Speaker 6: making all the children shout, clap, shall tumble all about,
Speaker 6: painted high and full of song, while the cheering rolls along,
Speaker 6: though they scream, though they rage, every beast in his cage,
Speaker 6: every beast in his den, that aforetime troubled men.
Speaker 18: Five.
Speaker 6: I am the Kaliope, kaliope, calliope, tooting hope, tooting hope,
Speaker 6: tooting hope, tooting hope, shaking window pane and door, with
Speaker 6: a crashing cosmic tune, with the war cry of the spheres,
Speaker 6: rhythm of the roar of noon, rhythm of Niagara's roar
Speaker 6: of voicing planet, star and moon, shrieking of the better years.
Speaker 6: Prophet singers will arise, prophets coming after me. Sing my
Speaker 6: song in softer guys, with more delicate surprise. I am
Speaker 6: but the pioneer, a voice of the democracy. I am
Speaker 6: the godd dream. I am the golden Dream, singing science,
Speaker 6: singing steam. I will blow the proud folk down. Listen
Speaker 6: to the lion roar. I am the Kaliope, Kaliope, Cali hope,
Speaker 6: tooting hope, tooting hope, tooting hope, tooting hope. Willy willy
Speaker 6: willy Wahoo hoot toot hoo, doot hoo, too hoo, too whoop, whoop, whoop, whoo, whoo, whoo,
Speaker 6: whoop whoop, Willy Willy Willy Wahoo sies fears. End of poem.
Speaker 6: This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 9: Thanksgiving for our task by Shamus O'Shiel read for LibriVox
Speaker 9: dot org by Adrian Stephens. The sickle is dulled of
Speaker 9: the reaping, and the threshing floor is bare, the dust
Speaker 9: of nights in the air. The peace of the weary
Speaker 9: is ours. Or day we have taken the fruit and
Speaker 9: the grain, and the seeds of the flowers. The evening
Speaker 9: is chill. It is good now to gather in peace
Speaker 9: by the flames of the fire. We have done. Now
Speaker 9: the deed that we did for our need and desire.
Speaker 9: We have wrought our will, And now for the boon
Speaker 9: of abundance and golden increase, an immurid peace. Shall we
Speaker 9: thank our God bethink us amid his indulgence, his terrible rod.
Speaker 9: Shall we be as the maple and oak strew the
Speaker 9: earth with our gold, giving only bare boughs to the sky. Nay,
Speaker 9: the pine stareth green, while the winter growls sullenly by
Speaker 9: and doth not revoke for soft days or stern days
Speaker 9: the pledge of its constancy. Shall we not be also
Speaker 9: the same through all days, giving thanks when the battle
Speaker 9: breaks on us in toil, giving praise O father, who
Speaker 9: saw had the dawn, that the folly of pride would
Speaker 9: be the lush weed of our sin. There is better
Speaker 9: than that in our hearts. O enter their in a
Speaker 9: light burneth, though one and weak be the flame, Yet
Speaker 9: it gloweth our humility. Ah, how can it be trimmed
Speaker 9: o'er the wick and replenished with oil, to burn brightly
Speaker 9: and golden and quick. For deep in our hearts we
Speaker 9: wish to be thankful through lean years and fat without change.
Speaker 9: Knowing that here thou hast set for the spirit arrange,
Speaker 9: we would play well our parts, making America throb with
Speaker 9: the building of souls and the glory of good YEA
Speaker 9: and we would, And before the last autumn we will
Speaker 9: build a temple from ocean to ocean, where deeds, never
Speaker 9: still melodiously shall proclaim thanksgiving for ever that thou hast
Speaker 9: set here to our hand, so wondrous a mystical harvest,
Speaker 9: that thou dost demand sheaves bound in thy name, yea
Speaker 9: so substantial sheaves of strong souls, that have grown fain
Speaker 9: to be known as the corn of thine oxidant field, Oh,
Speaker 9: yielder of all can America. Worthily thank THEE till such
Speaker 9: be her yield. In the mellowing light of the goldenest
Speaker 9: days that precede the gray days of the year, we
Speaker 9: sing THEE our harvesting song, and we pray THEE to
Speaker 9: hear in the midst of thy might, labor is given
Speaker 9: to us. Let us give thanks. Power worketh through us.
Speaker 9: Let us give thanks not for what we have, so
Speaker 9: might speak a slave, not for the garnering gratefully we sing,
Speaker 9: but for the mighty thing we must do, travailing, for
Speaker 9: our task, and for our strength, for the journey and
Speaker 9: its length, for our dauntless eagerness, for our humbling weariness.
Speaker 9: For these, For these, O Father, let us give thanks
Speaker 9: for these who might Father, take thou our thanks the
Speaker 9: forum shame of sociel end of poem. This recording is
Speaker 9: in the public domain.
Speaker 7: A Likeness by Willa Sibbert Catherine read for Libbryvox dot
Speaker 7: Org by M. Lee. Portrait bust of an unknown capital Rome.
Speaker 7: In every line, a supple beauty, the restless head, a
Speaker 7: little bent discussed, the pleasure scorn of duty, the unseeing
Speaker 7: eyes of discontent. I often come to sit beside him,
Speaker 7: this youth who passed and left no trace of good
Speaker 7: or ill that did betide him, save the disdain upon
Speaker 7: his face, the hope of all his house, the brother adored,
Speaker 7: the golden hearted son, whom fortune pampered like a mother.
Speaker 7: And then a shadow on the sun. Whether he followed
Speaker 7: Caesar's trumpet, or chanced the riskier game at home to
Speaker 7: find how favor played the strumpet in fickle politics at Rome.
Speaker 7: Whether he dreamed a dream in Asia he never could
Speaker 7: forget by day, or gave his youth to some Aspasia,
Speaker 7: or gained his heritage away once lost across the empire's order.
Speaker 7: This man would seek his peace in vain. His look
Speaker 7: arraigns a social order somehow entrammeled with his pain. The
Speaker 7: dice of God's are always loaded. One gambler arrogant as
Speaker 7: they fierce, and by fierce injustice goaded left both his
Speaker 7: hazard and the play incapable of comprom lies, unable to
Speaker 7: forgive or spare the strange awarding of the prizes he
Speaker 7: had no fortitude to bear. Tricked by the forms of
Speaker 7: things material, the solid seeming arch and stone, the noise
Speaker 7: of war, the pomp imperial, the heights and depths about
Speaker 7: a throne he missed among the shapes diurnal, the old,
Speaker 7: deep traveled road from pain, the thoughts of men which
Speaker 7: are eternal, in which eternal men remain retroto dignoto, defying
Speaker 7: things unsubstantial as a dream, an empire long in ashes, lying,
Speaker 7: his face still set against the stream. Yes, so he
Speaker 7: looked that gifted brother I loved, who passed and left
Speaker 7: no trace, not even luckier than this other, his sorrow
Speaker 7: in a marble face and of porm. This recording is
Speaker 7: in the public domain.
Speaker 18: The Field of Glory by Edwin Arlington Robinson read for
Speaker 18: Libbyvox dot Org by algiepag War shook the land where
Speaker 18: Levi dwelt and fired the dismal wrath. He felt that
Speaker 18: such a doom was ever wrought as his to toil,
Speaker 18: while others fought to toil, to dream, and still to dream,
Speaker 18: with one day barren as another to consummate, as it
Speaker 18: would seem, the dry despair of his old mother far off.
Speaker 18: One afternoon began the sound of man destroying man, and Levi,
Speaker 18: sick with nameless rage, condemned to gain his heritage, and
Speaker 18: sighed for scars that might have come and would if
Speaker 18: once he could have sundered those harts us in hearing
Speaker 18: claims of home that held him while he cursed and
Speaker 18: wondered another day. And then there came rough, bloody, ribled, hungry, lame,
Speaker 18: but yet themselves to Levi's door, to remnants of the
Speaker 18: day before. They laughed at him and what he sought.
Speaker 18: They jeered him and his painful acre, but Levi knew
Speaker 18: that they had fought, and left their manners to their maker.
Speaker 18: That night for the grim widow's ears, with hopes that
Speaker 18: hid themselves in fears. He told of arms and featly deeds,
Speaker 18: where at one leaps the while he reads, and said
Speaker 18: he'd be no more a clown, while others drew the
Speaker 18: breath of battle. The mother looked him up and down
Speaker 18: and laughed, a scant laugh. With a rattle. She told
Speaker 18: him what she found to tell, and Levi listened and
Speaker 18: heard well some admonitions of a voice that left him
Speaker 18: no cause to rejoice. He sought a friend, and found
Speaker 18: the stars, and prayed aloud that they should aid him.
Speaker 18: But they said not a word of wars, or of
Speaker 18: a reason why God made him, and whose of this
Speaker 18: or that estate? We do not wholly calculate when baffling shades,
Speaker 18: that shift and cling are not without their glimmering. When
Speaker 18: even Levi tired of faith, beloved of none, forgot by
Speaker 18: many dismiss'd as an inferior wraith, Reborn may be as
Speaker 18: great as any end of poem. This recording is in
Speaker 18: the public domain.
Speaker 4: Rich Man, poor Man, My Frances, ratful stopborn by Demien
Speaker 4: one one one zero, Oh joy that burns in Denver tavern,
Speaker 4: theres to drink the ceaseless clay, a kingdom dawned within
Speaker 4: the cavern, across the ports. He flings away, then nigh
Speaker 4: that falls on either mountain, ah bitter black that falls between.
Speaker 4: But he, like water to his fountain, is come again
Speaker 4: where a light runs clean, so dead shall find him, delving, peering,
Speaker 4: still silver rock, still old and sad he whips the year.
Speaker 4: The magpie is jeering, but he is back and his
Speaker 4: own land and the poem. This recording is in the
Speaker 4: public domain.
Speaker 19: The Senator by Ruth comfort Mitchell read Philibrivox dot Org
Speaker 19: by Rachel May Harkye, hush ye, Margot's dead. Hush, I've
Speaker 19: done with your brawling tune dance. She did till the
Speaker 19: stars grew pale, Mother O God, then she's gone at noon?
Speaker 8: Shush, do you hear me?
Speaker 19: Margot's dead, sickened and drooped and died in an hour.
Speaker 19: Bring me the milk and the meat and bread drooped
Speaker 19: she did like a wilted flower. Come and look at her.
Speaker 19: How she lies little, an lone, and like she's scared.
Speaker 19: She lost her beads last Friday week, tore her book
Speaker 19: and she never cared. Eh my lass, but it's winter
Speaker 19: now you that ever was meant for June yer laughing
Speaker 19: mouth in your dancing feet, and now you're done. I
Speaker 19: can end at June. Where's that woman?
Speaker 7: Ah?
Speaker 19: Give it me quick food at her head and her
Speaker 19: poor still feet. There's plenty four. Do you think the
Speaker 19: wench had so many sins for himself to eat? Take
Speaker 19: up your cloak and hand me mine. Are we fetching him?
Speaker 1: Eh?
Speaker 19: For sure, and you'll come with me for all your
Speaker 19: quicks clear to his cave across the moorer Margo, dearie,
Speaker 19: don't look so scared. It's not over long. While tify
Speaker 19: piece begins. What if you toy your book poulamb and
Speaker 19: bringing you one will eat your sins. It's a blood
Speaker 19: red sun that's sinking. Oh but the marsh lands, drear woman,
Speaker 19: For why will you be shrinking? I'm telling you there's
Speaker 19: not a fear. What if the twilight's gloomish and the
Speaker 19: shadows creep and crawl? Woman, woman, He'll be the cave.
Speaker 19: Stand by me, close till I call Sinita devil chitter, Eh,
Speaker 19: echoes hollowly. Marco's dead at Willow Farm. Shroud your face
Speaker 19: and follow me one o the clock, two o the
Speaker 19: clock this night so we can spam. Still he crouches
Speaker 19: by her side, devil ghost or man women never Cox
Speaker 19: crows sounded sweet before set the casement wider jar fasten
Speaker 19: back the door. Eh, but iby cold and stiff, waiting
Speaker 19: for the dawn. Fetch me flowers, jess'min see the food
Speaker 19: is gone light enough to see her. Now, Mary, how
Speaker 19: her face shines on us like altar fires. Now she's
Speaker 19: sure a grace. Never mind your book, my lamb, never
Speaker 19: mind your beads. There's the gleam before you. Now follow
Speaker 19: it where it leads, tearful peace and gentle grief. Brood
Speaker 19: on willow farm. Margot sleeping in her flowers, smiles secure
Speaker 19: from harm in a cave across the moor, Dank and
Speaker 19: dark within moans the traffico and souls freshly bowed with sin.
Speaker 19: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 18: Night Sentries by George Sterling read flibbyox dot org by
Speaker 18: algpag Ever. As sinks the day on sea or land,
Speaker 18: cold or uncold, you take your kinhundred posts at helm
Speaker 18: and leb, wheel and switch. You stand on the world's
Speaker 18: wastes and melancholy coasts. Strength to the patient, hand to
Speaker 18: all alert and faithful in the night. May there be
Speaker 18: light now? Roars the wrenching train along the dark. How
Speaker 18: many watchers guard the barren way in signal towers, at
Speaker 18: stammering keys to mark the word the whispering horizons. Say
Speaker 18: to all that see, and hark to all alert and
Speaker 18: faithful in the night. May there be light on ruthless streets,
Speaker 18: on byways sad with sin, half hated by the blinded ones.
Speaker 18: You guard, guard well, lest crime unheeded enter in the
Speaker 18: dark is cruel and the vigil hard. The hours of
Speaker 18: guilt begin. To all alert and faithful in the night.
Speaker 18: May there be light now storms the pulsing hull adown
Speaker 18: the sea, gaze onward, anxious eyes to mist or star
Speaker 18: where foams the heaving highway, blank and free, where await
Speaker 18: the reef, the berg, the cape, the bar, whatever menace be,
Speaker 18: to all alert and faithful in the night. May there
Speaker 18: be light now the surf rumble rides the midnight wind
Speaker 18: and grave patrols are on ocean edge now saws the rocket,
Speaker 18: where the billows grind, discern'd too late on sunken shoal
Speaker 18: or ledge to all that seek and find, To all
Speaker 18: alert and faithful in the night, May there be light
Speaker 18: on lonely headlands, gleam the lamps that worn, star steady,
Speaker 18: or a blink like dragon eyes govern your rays or
Speaker 18: wake the giant horn. Within the fog that welds the
Speaker 18: sea and skies. Far distant runs the morn to all
Speaker 18: alert and faithful in the night. May there be light
Speaker 18: now glow the lesser lamps in rooms of pain, where
Speaker 18: nurse and doctor watch the joyless breath, drawn in a
Speaker 18: sigh and sighing lost again, who wait without the threshold
Speaker 18: life or death? Reckon you loss or gain? To all
Speaker 18: alert and faithful in the night, May there be light.
Speaker 18: Honor to you that guard our welfare. Now, to you
Speaker 18: that constant in the past have stood, to all by
Speaker 18: whom the future shall avow unconquerable fortitude and good. Upon
Speaker 18: the sleepless brow of each alert and faithful in the night,
Speaker 18: may there be light poem. This recording is in the
Speaker 18: public domain.
Speaker 1: The Swordless Christ by Percy Adams Hutchinson read for LibriVox
Speaker 1: dot Org by Larry Wilson Vicisti Galilee Aye down the
Speaker 1: years behold he rides the lowly Christ upon an ass
Speaker 1: but conquering tin shall heed his call. A thousand idly
Speaker 1: watch him pass, They watch him pass, or lightly hold
Speaker 1: in mock lip loyalty his name. A thousand were they
Speaker 1: his to lead, but meek without a sword, he came
Speaker 1: a myriad horseman, swept the field with Attila, the whirlwind
Speaker 1: hun a myriad cannon speak for him, the silent dread Napoleon.
Speaker 1: For these had ready spoiled to give, had wreaking spoiled
Speaker 1: for savage hands, slaves and fair wives, and pillage rare,
Speaker 1: the wealth of cities teemy lands. And if the world,
Speaker 1: once drunk with blood sated, has turned from arms to peace,
Speaker 1: man hath not lost his ancient lusts. The weapons change
Speaker 1: war doth not cease the mother in the stifling din,
Speaker 1: the brain dulled child beside the loom, the hordes that
Speaker 1: swarm and toil and starve, we laugh and tread them
Speaker 1: to their doom. They shriek and cry their prayers to Christ,
Speaker 1: and lift wan faces, hands that bleed in vain. They
Speaker 1: pray for what is Christ? A leader without men to lead?
Speaker 1: Ah piteous Christ? To far he rides, We see him,
Speaker 1: but the face is dim. We that would leap at
Speaker 1: crash of drums are slow to rise and follow him.
Speaker 1: The form in the poem. This recording is in the
Speaker 1: public domain. What of the Night by Willard Huntington Wright
Speaker 1: read for LibriVox dot Org by Larry Wilson. What of
Speaker 1: the Night and the eventual silences? Art thou not cold
Speaker 1: with the knowledge of decay and the uncompromising reaches of
Speaker 1: the earth. What of the night when the tune falters
Speaker 1: and the blood chills? When thou art won with the
Speaker 1: grass and the underbrush of the world, wilt thou forget
Speaker 1: the names of flowers, the rhythm of song, and lips
Speaker 1: still balmy with the breasts of women. When thou and
Speaker 1: the fog on the hilltop are his brother and sister.
Speaker 1: Wilt thou forget utterly the ways of men, the clash
Speaker 1: of swords and the sting of wine, the dim horizons
Speaker 1: and the grace of girls. When thou art alone eternally?
Speaker 18: What of the night?
Speaker 1: Where will God be? When thou art swathed in silence,
Speaker 1: when the wreckage of dreams has crushed thee, and the
Speaker 1: lust for spring times dissolve thee? Wilt thou have visions
Speaker 1: only of the dawn and autumn sunsets. Will the memory
Speaker 1: of women's faces haunt thy grave? Will the odor of
Speaker 1: blue flowers find thy dust? When thou art choking on
Speaker 1: the calm indifference of youth and the everlasting beauty of trees,
Speaker 1: wilt thou dream only of the June, the love of
Speaker 1: women and the great democracy of men? When thou hast
Speaker 1: fought and failed, and thy brow has withered laurelss, and
Speaker 1: thy name has been effaced by the insatiable winds, and
Speaker 1: thou hast gone out at the western gate to join
Speaker 1: the laggards of the dead. Wilt thou crave only the
Speaker 1: withheld success, the transitory fame of twilight years. Will thy
Speaker 1: soul cry out only for the song, the red dawn,
Speaker 1: and the glad triumph of love. Wilt thou indeed forget
Speaker 1: the days of pain, the ineffectual prayers, the lies of time,
Speaker 1: and the bitterness of defeat, Or remembering these things, wilt
Speaker 1: thou forget the hands of women and the rude love
Speaker 1: of men, and be glad of thy dark quietude. When
Speaker 1: thou art part of the impending gloom. I deem that
Speaker 1: life will seem to thee in no such wise. But
Speaker 1: rather thou wilt dream it as a whole, not as
Speaker 1: a song, nor yet a broken bell. But all that
Speaker 1: thou hast been, the great tears, the rain, the kisses
Speaker 1: and the flutes, the old sorrows, and the hills at dawn,
Speaker 1: much laughter and much grief, and the stern fight. And
Speaker 1: thou shalt know how all of life is gain, the
Speaker 1: gold of youth, the great defeat of age. How in
Speaker 1: the soul's in harmony there lies the incoherent unity of things,
Speaker 1: the forum in the poem. This recording is in the
Speaker 1: public domain.
Speaker 9: A threnedy by Louis v Ldeux, read for LibriVox dot
Speaker 9: org by Adrian Stephens, in memory of the destruction of
Speaker 9: Messina by earthquake Sicilian muse, O thou, who sittest dumb
Speaker 9: amid the sodden fields and ways for lorn, where once
Speaker 9: the herdsmen singing watched their kind breast deep in fragrance,
Speaker 9: odorous eve and morn, stranger to thee. Yet led by love,
Speaker 9: I come a suppliant sable stole, to mix with thine
Speaker 9: my tears, and at thy shrine kindle a funeral torch.
Speaker 9: For Sicily, give not the suppliant's prayer, the mead of
Speaker 9: blame scorn, not the stranger's proffered oil and wine, O thou,
Speaker 9: from whom the heavenly madness came when Orpheus Hymnings struck
Speaker 9: his golden lute and stirred old memories in persephone, while
Speaker 9: all the lonely shades in hell stood mute to watch
Speaker 9: the still beloved Eurydice, borne lightly upward on the silver
Speaker 9: surge to Enna's flowery verge spirit August child of Nemosny,
Speaker 9: with reverence and true humility, I break before thy feet,
Speaker 9: my careless flute, and wait upon my lips thy touch
Speaker 9: of flame. Begin Sicilian muse, begin the dirge o race.
Speaker 9: Unmindful of the destinies the dread Eumiinidies or moraih old,
Speaker 9: sent from Earth's inmost core a tremor warning. Blindly, ye
Speaker 9: who blind see not that sleepless doom that evermore has
Speaker 9: watch'd your tragic sure since lost sea rovers shaded first
Speaker 9: their eyes to spy the riches of your waving store,
Speaker 9: and grated up your sands with doubtful keel. The startled
Speaker 9: jungle growing above its young, The Arctic foxes snuffed the
Speaker 9: scentless wind. But ye who knew yourself, a fated race
Speaker 9: that gods have loved, and God's to hate exposed though black,
Speaker 9: the death clouds over Etna hung. Forgot the anguish in
Speaker 9: Pompey's face beneath her half drawn winding sheet disclosed, forgot
Speaker 9: white Lisbon's doom, nor called to mind in pleasant zenkle,
Speaker 9: taking noonday ease, how from its ashes by the western seas,
Speaker 9: as stricken phoenix rises stone and steel, fresh as her
Speaker 9: poro flowers. At early dawn, when over Hiblius Hills, the
Speaker 9: yellow bees from aromatic blossoms shake the dew fair as
Speaker 9: the maiden heir by dark fate drawn, She saw the
Speaker 9: wide earth yawn before the thunderous horses and the strong
Speaker 9: arm of Aides crushed her gathered flowers, so fresh, so
Speaker 9: fair amid her storied seas, she who remains through changes
Speaker 9: Ian long a greater Helen wooed with sword and song
Speaker 9: of mightier Victor's bride and battle prize lay lapped in peace.
Speaker 9: When swift from hades, driven upward, the death king came.
Speaker 9: The earth was riven, and through the darkness rang her
Speaker 9: children's cries. Now Scylla unto fierce Charibdis calls, while on
Speaker 9: the water spreads a crimson stain. Now Galatea sobs in
Speaker 9: ocean halls, and vengeful Polyphemus laughs again. The Nereids now
Speaker 9: in Uzi cavern's hide, where seekings the old Aeolian shore
Speaker 9: watch sunken arguses for evermore and tell their tales of dread,
Speaker 9: Poseidon's hate, while dimly from the far ensanguined tide patient
Speaker 9: Odysseus furrowed once of yore, a glint of daylight through
Speaker 9: the darkness falls on swaying helmets, tumbled bronze and gold,
Speaker 9: on broidered vestments, stiff and tyrian dyed. There hide they,
Speaker 9: but the seekings keep their state, telling of ancient dooms
Speaker 9: and deaths of old. Nor know they how beside the
Speaker 9: darkened strait and up the slopes of olive, vine and grain.
Speaker 9: The Dryad's wail, a land left desolate, Wail thou, great muse,
Speaker 9: the dear Sicilian land. Now greater grief is thine than
Speaker 9: when of old young Adon in the Syprian's arms lay cold,
Speaker 9: and Daphness's years were told. Take thou the lyre from
Speaker 9: times enfeebled hand. Hushed is the music of Empedocles, of
Speaker 9: Splendid Pindar, Pure Simonides, Bion and Moscus, and Theocritus, and
Speaker 9: those who, unto us nameless yet live as human memories.
Speaker 9: Hushed is the last of all that laureled band hushed,
Speaker 9: or on Charon's strand, urging in vain petition, dolorous to
Speaker 9: pass where Pan his boyish pipings done, stands wistful, while
Speaker 9: the nymphs, by fear made bold, cling with their long
Speaker 9: lithe arms about his knees, wail thou, great muse, or
Speaker 9: leoise from Acharon, some worthy bearer of the singing bow,
Speaker 9: whose madness whirls me now on melting wings, too near
Speaker 9: the sudden sun. Yet why for aught on Earth should
Speaker 9: grief be loud, since all that is is born to
Speaker 9: pass away. Hero and maiden to the urn are vowed,
Speaker 9: and beauty saves not when the dead falls due Apollo,
Speaker 9: with the darker gods, has died, and Gaya the last
Speaker 9: shall be as they oh hull'n of the soul, o
Speaker 9: golden isle, by beauty, doomed by beauty sanctified, Thou too
Speaker 9: canst not abide, but like all else, shall last a
Speaker 9: little while, a little longer than the falling spray, then
Speaker 9: pass as planet dust or gaseous cloud, to build new cosmos.
Speaker 9: Gnawed by new decay, Earth's senseless atoms ever clasp and
Speaker 9: whirl unclasp again, to form in mazes new and ever.
Speaker 9: On the white cliff stands some girl with dead eyes,
Speaker 9: gazing on the sailless blue Earth's roses die, but still
Speaker 9: the rose lives on, the song survives. The swift Lucadian leap,
Speaker 9: a dream of immortality is ours, where golden daftness in
Speaker 9: the more morning shone fresh sprung from helicon. New shepherds
Speaker 9: singing lead their careless sheep above the graves of Athens, Carthage, Rome,
Speaker 9: van doors, and Moslems, and strange northern powers that filled
Speaker 9: their destined hours and fed in turn the rich Sicilian loam,
Speaker 9: building like coral insects from the deep enchanted islands, that,
Speaker 9: till Earth is gone, swept back to chaos. In the
Speaker 9: atoms swirl shall be the seeker's light, the spirit's home.
Speaker 9: So Etna crumble, and the dark seas rise, sowing the
Speaker 9: uplands with their sterile brine. Still shall the soul decry
Speaker 9: with wistful eyes, Sicilian headlands bright with flower and fruit.
Speaker 9: Still shall she hear, though all Earth's lips be mute
Speaker 9: Sicilian music in the morning skies yeay. Deep within the
Speaker 9: heart of man it lies this visioned island, bright with
Speaker 9: old romance, a race inheritance of rest and joy and
Speaker 9: faith in things divine that shall endure a while through
Speaker 9: change and chance, and have the meaning of a childhood
Speaker 9: shrine remembered. When the faith of childhood dies, now fails
Speaker 9: the song, and down the lonely ways, the last low
Speaker 9: echoes die upon the breeze. I lay my lyre upon
Speaker 9: the moveless knees of her, who by the hollow roadway
Speaker 9: stays in anguish waiting for her children slain that shall
Speaker 9: not come again. With springtime leading the new lambs to graze,
Speaker 9: they come no more. But while o'er hill and plain,
Speaker 9: the twilight darkens and the evening rose aloft on Etna
Speaker 9: glows silent. She sits amid the sodden leaves, with eyes
Speaker 9: that level on the ocean haze their unobserving stare as
Speaker 9: seaward gaze, the eyes of stolid Caryatides scribners Louis v
Speaker 9: Ludu end of perm. This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 6: November by Maelon Leonard Fisher, read for LibriVox dot Org
Speaker 6: by Andrew Gaunts. Hark you such sound as quivers. Kings
Speaker 6: will hear as kings have heard, and tremble on their thrones.
Speaker 6: The old will feel the weight of mossy stones. The
Speaker 6: young alone will laugh and scoff at fear. It is
Speaker 6: the tread of armies marching near, from scarlet lands to
Speaker 6: lands forever pale. It is a bugle dying down the gale.
Speaker 6: It is the sudden gushing of a tear, And it
Speaker 6: is that grope at ghostly doors and romp of spirit
Speaker 6: children on the pave. It is the tender sighing of
Speaker 6: the brave who fell a long ago in futile wars.
Speaker 6: It is such sound as death. And after all tis
Speaker 6: but the forest letting dead leaves fall. End of poem.
Speaker 6: This recording is in the public domain.
Speaker 10: Salutation by Rufe's Dearie rud for LibriVox dot org. Did
Speaker 10: you choose the journey friend, no nor I? But to
Speaker 10: make it cheerfully? Let us try when the day is dark,
Speaker 10: I pray sing a song to cheer the way, for
Speaker 10: tomorrow we will be one day nearer to the sea.
Speaker 10: Did you choose the journey friend?
Speaker 1: No nor I?
Speaker 10: But we know the end will come by and by
Speaker 10: all to day we bear the load up the weary
Speaker 10: winding road. But tomorrow we may be at the inn
Speaker 10: in company. End of poem. This recording is in the
Speaker 10: public domain.
Speaker 2: Here lies Pierrot by Richard Burton, read for Librivaux dot
Speaker 2: org by our mapstone, the Moon's shine, by many a
Speaker 2: lane walk with ful lovers to and fro. It must
Speaker 2: be like old days again. How do they love?
Speaker 7: Here?
Speaker 2: Lies Pirot. She loved me once, did Columbine. It sets
Speaker 2: my dusty heart aglow, merely to lie and dream. How
Speaker 2: fine her semblance was here, lies Pirot. Her perfumed present
Speaker 2: silks and lace did madden men and wrought them woe
Speaker 2: for me alone, her witching grace. Where is she?
Speaker 12: Now?
Speaker 8: Here?
Speaker 2: Lies Pirot. We two walked once beneath the moon yellow
Speaker 2: it hung and large and low, and listened to the
Speaker 2: tender tune of nightingales. Here lies Pirot. Our foolish vows
Speaker 2: of passion shook the very stars they trembled. So how
Speaker 2: it comes back? Her soft, shy look? Now I am dead, here,
Speaker 2: lies Pirot. These other men and maids who stroll through
Speaker 2: moonlit poplar trees a row, does each play the enchanted
Speaker 2: role we phantoms played? Here, lies Pirot. Oh joy that
Speaker 2: I remember, yet, sweet follies out the long ago, dear Heaven,
Speaker 2: I would not quite forget. The moon's are shine here
Speaker 2: lies Pirot. Scribner's end of poem disrecording is in the
Speaker 2: public domain. End of anthology of magazine Verse for nineteen thirteen,
Speaker 2: edited by William Stanley Braithwaite,