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Dome of Many-Coloured Glass - Amy Lowell · The Montessori Method

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  Speaker 1: Before the Altar by Amy Lowell read Forulibrivax dot Org
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  Speaker 1: by Canmasters. Before the altar bowed, he stands with empty
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  Speaker 1: hands upon it, perfumed offerings burn, wreathing with smoke the
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  Speaker 1: sacrificial urn. Not one of all these has he given.
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  Speaker 1: No flame of his has leapt to heaven fire sold.
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  Speaker 1: The million hearted forked and darted, consuming what a few
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  Speaker 1: spare pens have cheaply bought to fling from. Hence in
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  Speaker 1: idly asked petition his sole condition, love and poverty. And
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  Speaker 1: while the moon swings slow across the sky athwart a
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  Speaker 1: waving pine tree, and soon tips all the needles there
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  Speaker 1: with silver sparkles, bitterly he gazes, while his soul grows
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  Speaker 1: hard with thinking of the poorness of his doll. Shining
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  Speaker 1: and distant Goddess, hear my prayer, Where you swim in
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  Speaker 1: the high air with charity, look down on me under
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  Speaker 1: the stree, tending the gifts I have not brought, the
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  Speaker 1: rare and goodly things I have not sought. Instead, take
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  Speaker 1: from me all my life upon the wings of shimmering moonbeams.
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  Speaker 1: I pack my poet's dreams for you, my wearing strife,
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  Speaker 1: my courage my loss into the night. I toss for you,
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  Speaker 1: golden Divinity, deign to look down on me, so unworthily
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  Speaker 1: offers to you all life has known, seeds, withered, unsown hopes,
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  Speaker 1: turning quick to fears, laughter which dies in tears. The
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  Speaker 1: shredded remnant of a man is all the span and
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  Speaker 1: compass of my offering to you, Empty and silent. I
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  Speaker 1: kneel before your pure, calm, majesty, on this stone, in
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  Speaker 1: this urn, I pour my heart and watch it burn
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  Speaker 1: myself the sacrifice, but be still unmoved, Divinity from the altar,
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  Speaker 1: bathed in moonlight, the smoke rose straight in the quiet night.
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  Speaker 1: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain,
• 3:13
  Speaker 1: suggested by the cover of a volume of Keats's poems
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  Speaker 1: by Amy Lowell readfulibrivox dot Org by Canmasters. Wild little Bird,
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  Speaker 1: who chose THEE for a sign to put upon the
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  Speaker 1: cover of this book? Who heard thee singing in the
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  Speaker 1: distant dim the vague, far greenness of the enshrouding wood,
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  Speaker 1: when the damp freshness of the morning earth was full
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  Speaker 1: of pungent sweetness and thy song. Who followed over moss
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  Speaker 1: and twisted roots, and pushed through the wet leaves of
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  Speaker 1: trailing vines, where slanting sunbeams gleamed uncertainly, while ever clearer
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  Speaker 1: came the dropping notes, until at last two widening trunks disclosed,
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  Speaker 1: thee singing on a spray of branching beach, hidden, then seen,
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  Speaker 1: and always that same song of joyful sweetness, rapture incarnate,
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  Speaker 1: filled the hushed, rustling stillness of the wood. We do
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  Speaker 1: not know what bird thou art, perhaps that fairy bird
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  Speaker 1: fabled in island tale, who never sings but once, and
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  Speaker 1: then his song is of such fearful beauty that he
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  Speaker 1: dies from sheer exuberance of melody. For this they took thee,
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  Speaker 1: little bird. For this they captured thee tilting among the leaves,
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  Speaker 1: and stamped thee for a symbol on this book, For
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  Speaker 1: it contains a sung surpassing thine, richer, more sweet, more poignant.
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  Speaker 1: And the poet who felt this burning beauty, and whose
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  Speaker 1: heart was full of loveliest things, sang all he knew
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  Speaker 1: a little while, and then he died, too frail to
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  Speaker 1: bear this untamed, passionate burst of song. End of poem.
• 5:42
  Speaker 1: This recording is in the public domain.
• 5:50
  Speaker 2: Apples of Hesperides by Amy Lowell read for Librivokes dot
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  Speaker 2: org by Roslyn Carlile. Hunting golden through the trees, apples
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  Speaker 2: of Hissperides, through the moon, pierced warp of night shoot,
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  Speaker 2: pale shafts of yellow light, swaying to the kissing breeze,
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  Speaker 2: swings the treasure, golden, gleaming apples of Hesperides, far and lofty,
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  Speaker 2: Yet they glimmer apples of Hesperides, blended by their radiant shimmer,
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  Speaker 2: pushing forward just for these dew besprinkled, bramble marred, poor, duped, mortal,
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  Speaker 2: travel scarred, always thinking soon to seas and possess the golden,
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  Speaker 2: glistening apples of Hesperides, orbed and glittering and pend on
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  Speaker 2: apples of Hesperides, not one missing, still transcendent, clustering like
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  Speaker 2: a swarm of bees, yielding to no man's desire, glowing
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  Speaker 2: with a saffron fire, blended, unassailed, the golden apples of Hesperides.
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  Speaker 2: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
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  Speaker 2: Azure and Gold by Amy Lowell read for Librovoks dot
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  Speaker 2: Org by Rosslyn Carlile. April had covered the hills with
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  Speaker 2: flickering yellows and reds. The sparkle and coolness of snow
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  Speaker 2: was blown from the mountain beds across a deep sunken stream,
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  Speaker 2: the pink of blossoming trees, and from windless apple blooms,
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  Speaker 2: the humming of many bees. The air was of rose
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  Speaker 2: and gold, Arabesque, with the song of birds who swinging
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  Speaker 2: unseen under leaves made music more eager than words of
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  Speaker 2: a sudden aslant the road, a brightness to dazzle and stun,
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  Speaker 2: a glen of the bluest blue of flash from a
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  Speaker 2: sapphire sun. Blue bird so blue twas a dream and impossible,
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  Speaker 2: unconceived hue the high sky of summer dropped down some
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  Speaker 2: rupturous ocean to woo such a color, such infinite light.
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  Speaker 2: The heart of a fabulous gem, many faceted, brilliant and rare,
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  Speaker 2: center stone of the Earth's diadem, center stone of the
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  Speaker 2: crown of the world. Sincerity graved on your youth and
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  Speaker 2: your eyes. Hold the blue bird flash the sapphire shaft,
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  Speaker 2: which is truth. End of poem. This recording is in
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  Speaker 2: the public domain. Petals by Amy Lowell, read for librivoks
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  Speaker 2: dot Org by Rosslyn Carlile life is a stream on
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  Speaker 2: which we strew, pedal by petal, the flower of our heart,
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  Speaker 2: the end lost in dream. They float past our view.
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  Speaker 2: We only watch their glad early start. Freighted with hope,
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  Speaker 2: crimsoned with joy, we scatter the leaves of our opening rows,
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  Speaker 2: their winding scope, their distant employ we never shall know,
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  Speaker 2: and the stream, as it flows, sweeps them away. Each
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  Speaker 2: one is gone, ever beyond, into infinite ways. We alone
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  Speaker 2: stay while years hurry on the flower fared forth, though
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  Speaker 2: its fragrance still stays. End of poem. This recording is
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  Speaker 2: in the public domain.
• 9:51
  Speaker 1: Venetian Glass by Amy Lowell, readfulibrivox dot org by Ken Masters.
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  Speaker 1: As there's one who sails upon a wide blue sea,
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  Speaker 1: far out of sight of land, his mind intent upon
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  Speaker 1: the sailing of his little boat, on tightening ropes and
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  Speaker 1: shaping fair his course. Hears suddenly across the restless sea
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  Speaker 1: the rhythmic striking of some towered clock, and wakes from
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  Speaker 1: thoughtless idleness to time, time, the slow pulse which beats eternity. So,
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  Speaker 1: through the vacancy of busy life at intervals, you cross
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  Speaker 1: my path and bring the deep solemnity of passing years
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  Speaker 1: for you I have shed bitter tears for you. I
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  Speaker 1: have relinquished that for which my heart cried out in
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  Speaker 1: selfish longing, and tonight, having just left you, I can
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  Speaker 1: say tis well, thank God that I have known a
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  Speaker 1: soul so true, so nobly, just so worthy to be loved.
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  Speaker 1: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 11:32
  Speaker 3: Fatigue by Amy Lowell read for LibriVox dot Org by
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  Speaker 3: Jennifer Dolman. Stupefy my heart to every day's monotony. Seal
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  Speaker 3: up my eyes I would not look so far. Chasten
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  Speaker 3: my steps to peaceful regularity. Bow down my head lest
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  Speaker 3: I behold a star. Fill my days with work, a
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  Speaker 3: thousand calm necessities, leaving no moment to consecrate to hope.
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  Speaker 3: Girdle my thoughts within the dull circumferences of facts which
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  Speaker 3: form the actual in one short hour's scope. Give me
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  Speaker 3: dreamless sleep, and loose night's power over me. Shut my
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  Speaker 3: ears to sounds only tumultuous. Then bid fancy slumber and
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  Speaker 3: steal away its potency where nature wakes and strives to
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  Speaker 3: live again. Let each day pass well ordered in its usefulness,
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  Speaker 3: unlit by sunshine, unscarred by storm, dower, me with strength
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  Speaker 3: and curb all foolish eagerness. The law exacts obedience instruct
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  Speaker 3: I will conform. End of poem. This recording is in
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  Speaker 3: the public domain.
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  Speaker 1: A Japanese wood carving by Amy Lowell readfulibrivox dot org
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  Speaker 1: by Kenmasters. High up above the open welcoming door, it
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  Speaker 1: hangs a piece of wood with colors dim Once long
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  Speaker 1: ago it was a waving tree and knew the sun
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  Speaker 1: and shadow through the leaves of forest trees. In a
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  Speaker 1: thick eastern wood, the winter snows had bent its branches down,
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  Speaker 1: the spring had swelled its buds with coming flowers. Summer
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  Speaker 1: had run like fire through its veins, while autumn pilted
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  Speaker 1: it with chestnut burrs and strewed the leafy ground with
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  Speaker 1: acorn cups. Dark midnight storms had roared and crashed among
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  Speaker 1: its branches, breaking here and there a limb. But every
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  Speaker 1: now and then, broad sunlit days lovingly lingered caught among
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  Speaker 1: the leaves. Yes, it had known all this, and yet
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  Speaker 1: to us it does not speak of mossy forest ways,
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  Speaker 1: of whispering pine trees, or the shimmering birch, but of
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  Speaker 1: quick winds and the salt stinging sea. An artist, once
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  Speaker 1: with patient, careful knife, had fashioned it like to the
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  Speaker 1: untamed sea. Here waves uprear themselves, their tops blown back
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  Speaker 1: by the gay sunny wind, which whips the blue and
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  Speaker 1: breaks it into gleams and sparks of light. Among the
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  Speaker 1: flashing waves are two white birds, which swoop and soar
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  Speaker 1: and scream for very joy at the wild sport, now
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  Speaker 1: diving quickly in questing some glistening fish, now flying up,
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  Speaker 1: their dripping feathers shining in the sun, while the wet drops,
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  Speaker 1: like little glints of light fall pattering backward to the
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  Speaker 1: parent sea, gliding along the green and foam flecked hollows,
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  Speaker 1: or skimming some white crest about to break the spirits
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  Speaker 1: of the sky, deigning to stoop and play with ocean
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  Speaker 1: in a summer mood. Hanging above the high, wide open door.
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  Speaker 1: It brings to us, in quiet, fire lit room, the
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  Speaker 1: freedom of the earth's vast solitudes, where heaping sunny waves
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  Speaker 1: tumble and roll, and sea birds screwd in wanton happiness.
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  Speaker 1: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
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  Speaker 1: A little song by Amy Lowell readfulibrivox dot org by Kenmasters.
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  Speaker 1: When you, my dear are away away, how wearily goes
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  Speaker 1: the creeping day. A year drags after morning, and night
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  Speaker 1: starts another year of candlelight. Oh, pausing Sun and lingering Moon.
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  Speaker 1: Grant me I beg of you this boon whirl round
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  Speaker 1: the earth as never Sun has his diurnal journey. Run
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  Speaker 1: and Moon.
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  Speaker 4: Slip past the ladders of air in a single flash,
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  Speaker 4: while your streaming hair catches the stars and pulls them
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  Speaker 4: down to shine.
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  Speaker 1: On some slumbering Chinese town. Oh kindly Sun, understanding Moon,
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  Speaker 1: bring evening to crowd the footsteps of noon. But when
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  Speaker 1: that long awaited day hangs ripe in the heavens, your
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  Speaker 1: voyaging stay be morning, Oh Sun, with the lark in
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  Speaker 1: sung be afternoon for ages long and moon, Let you
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  Speaker 1: and your lesser lights watch over a sanctuary of nights.
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  Speaker 1: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
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  Speaker 2: Behind the Wall by Amy Lowell, read for librivoks dot
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  Speaker 2: Org by Rosslyn Carlyle. I own a solace shut within
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  Speaker 2: my heart, A garden full of many, a quaint delight
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  Speaker 2: and warm with drowsy poppied sunshine, bright flaming with lilies
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  Speaker 2: out of whose cups, dart shining things with powdered wings.
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  Speaker 2: Here terrace sinks to terrace arbor's clothes, the ends of
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  Speaker 2: dreaming paths. A wanton wind jostles the half ripe pairs,
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  Speaker 2: and then unkind tumbles A slumber in a pillar rose
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  Speaker 2: with content grown indolent by night, my garden is o'erhung,
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  Speaker 2: with gems fixed in an onyx setting. Fireflies flicker their
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  Speaker 2: lanterns in my dazzled eyes. In serried rose, I guess
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  Speaker 2: the straight, stiff stems of hollyhocks against the rocks so
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  Speaker 2: far in still it is that listening I hear the
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  Speaker 2: flowers talking in the dawn, and where the sunken basin
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  Speaker 2: cuts the lawn cinctured with iris pale and glistening, the
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  Speaker 2: sudden swish of a waking fish. End of poem. This
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  Speaker 2: recording is in the public domain. A Winter Ride by
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  Speaker 2: Amy Lowell, read for Librovox dot Org by Rosslyn Carlyle.
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  Speaker 2: Who shall the the joy of the running? Who shall
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  Speaker 2: tell of the pleasures of flight, springing and spurning, the
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  Speaker 2: tufts of wild heather sweeping wide winged through the blue
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  Speaker 2: dome of light. Everything mortal has moments, immortal, swift, and
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  Speaker 2: God gifted immeasurably bright. So with the stretch of the
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  Speaker 2: white road before me, shining snow crystals, rainbowed by the sun,
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  Speaker 2: fields that are white, stained with long, cool blue shadows.
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  Speaker 2: Strong with the strength of my horse, as we run,
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  Speaker 2: joy in the touch of the wind, in the sunlight,
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  Speaker 2: Joy with the vigorous earth. I am one. End of poem.
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  Speaker 2: This recording is in the public domain. A colored print
• 20:52
  Speaker 2: by chouquet by Amy Lowell, read for Librevoks dot Org
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  Speaker 2: by Rosslyn Carlyle. It winds along the face of a cliff,
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  Speaker 2: this path which I long to explore, and over it
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  Speaker 2: dashes a waterfall, and the air is full of the
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  Speaker 2: roar and the thunderous voice of waters, which sweep in
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  Speaker 2: a silver torrent over some steep. It clears the path
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  Speaker 2: with a mighty bound and tumbles below and away. And
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  Speaker 2: the trees and the bushes which grow in the rocks
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  Speaker 2: are wet with its jeweled spray. The air is misty
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  Speaker 2: and heavy with sound, and small wet wildflowers star the ground. Oh,
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  Speaker 2: the dampness is very good to smell, and the path
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  Speaker 2: is soft tread, and beyond the fall it winds up
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  Speaker 2: and on, while little streamlets thread they're own, meandering way
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  Speaker 2: down the hill, each singing its own little song. And
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  Speaker 2: tell I forget that tis only a pictured path. And
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  Speaker 2: I hear the water and wind, and look through the mist,
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  Speaker 2: and strain my eyes to see what there is behind,
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  Speaker 2: for it must lead to a happy land, this little
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  Speaker 2: path by a waterfall spanned end of poem. This recording
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  Speaker 2: is in the public domain.
• 22:22
  Speaker 5: Song by Amy Lowell, dreadfully prevox dot Org by Anusha Ayir.
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  Speaker 2: Song.
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  Speaker 5: Oh to be a flower nodding in the sun, bending
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  Speaker 5: then upspringing as the breezes run, holding up a scent
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  Speaker 5: brimmed cup full of summer's fragrance to the summer's sun.
• 22:47
  Speaker 5: Oh to be a butterfly still upon a flower, winking
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  Speaker 5: with its painted wings, happy in the hour. Blossoms hold
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  Speaker 5: mines of gold deep within the farthest heart of each
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  Speaker 5: shallict flower. Oh to be a cloud blowing through the blue,
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  Speaker 5: shadowing the mountains, rushing loudly through valleys deep where torrents
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  Speaker 5: keep always their plunging thunder and their misty arch of blue.
• 23:24
  Speaker 5: Oh to be a wave splintering on the sand, drawing
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  Speaker 5: back but leaving lingeringly the land. Rainbow light flashes bright,
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  Speaker 5: telling tales of coral caves half hid in yellow sand.
• 23:46
  Speaker 5: Soon they die, the flowers, insects live a day, clouds
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  Speaker 5: dissolve in showers. Only ways at play, last, forever shall
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  Speaker 5: end make a sea of purpose mightier than we dreamed today.
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  Speaker 2: End of poem.
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  Speaker 5: This recording is in the public domain.
• 24:18
  Speaker 2: The fool Errant by Amy Lowell read for Librivoux dot
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  Speaker 2: Org by Rosslyn Carlyle. The fool Errant sat by the
• 24:29
  Speaker 2: highway of life, and his gaze wandered up, and his
• 24:33
  Speaker 2: gaze wandered down. A vigorous youth, but with no wish
• 24:37
  Speaker 2: to walk, yet his longing was great for the distant town.
• 24:41
  Speaker 2: He whistled a little frivolous hun which he felt to
• 24:45
  Speaker 2: be pulsing with ecstasy, for he thought that success always
• 24:49
  Speaker 2: followed desire. Such a very superlative fool was he. A
• 24:55
  Speaker 2: maiden came by on an ambling mule. Her gown was
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  Speaker 2: rose red, and her kerchief blue. On her lap, she
• 25:01
  Speaker 2: carried a basket of eggs, thought the fool, there is
• 25:05
  Speaker 2: certainly room for two. So he jauntily swaggered towards the
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  Speaker 2: maid and put out his hand to the bridle. Rein
• 25:14
  Speaker 2: my pretty girl, quoth the fool, take me up for
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  Speaker 2: to ride with you to the town. I am fine.
• 25:21
  Speaker 2: But the maiden struck at his upraised arm and pelted
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  Speaker 2: him hotly with eggs a score. The mule lashed into
• 25:28
  Speaker 2: a fury. Ran The fool went back to his stone
• 25:32
  Speaker 2: and swore. Then, out of the cloud of settling dust,
• 25:37
  Speaker 2: the burly form of an abbot appeared reading his office.
• 25:40
  Speaker 2: He rode to the town, and the fool got up,
• 25:43
  Speaker 2: for his heart was cheered. He stood in the midst
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  Speaker 2: of the long white road and swept off his cap
• 25:50
  Speaker 2: till it touched the ground. Ah, Reverend Sir well met,
• 25:55
  Speaker 2: said the fool. A worthier transport never was found. I
• 25:59
  Speaker 2: pray all I meet him. Mount with you. Your Palfrey
• 26:02
  Speaker 2: seems both sturdy and young. The abbot looked up from
• 26:06
  Speaker 2: the holy book and cried out in anger, hold your tongue,
• 26:10
  Speaker 2: how dare you obstruct the King's high road? You saucy
• 26:14
  Speaker 2: Varlet get out of my way. Then he gave the
• 26:17
  Speaker 2: fool a cut with his whip, and, leaving him smarting,
• 26:20
  Speaker 2: he rode away. The fool was angry. The fool was soer,
• 26:27
  Speaker 2: and he cursed the folly of monks and maids, if
• 26:30
  Speaker 2: I could but meet with a man aside, the fool
• 26:33
  Speaker 2: for a woman fears and a friar upbraids. Then he
• 26:38
  Speaker 2: saw a flashing of distant steel, and the clanking of
• 26:41
  Speaker 2: harness greeted his ears. And up the roads journeyed knights
• 26:45
  Speaker 2: at arms with waving plumes and glittering spears. The fool
• 26:50
  Speaker 2: took notice and slowly arose. Not quite so sure was
• 26:55
  Speaker 2: his foolish heart. If priests and woman would none of him,
• 26:59
  Speaker 2: was it likely a knight would take his part? They
• 27:03
  Speaker 2: sang as they rode, these lusty boys. When one chance
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  Speaker 2: to turn towards the highway's side, there's a sorry figure
• 27:11
  Speaker 2: of fun, sheested. He well, Sarah, move back, there is
• 27:15
  Speaker 2: scarce room to ride. Good sirs, kind sirs, begged the
• 27:21
  Speaker 2: crestfallen fool. I pray of your courtesy speech with you.
• 27:26
  Speaker 2: I'm for Yonder Town and have no horse to ride.
• 27:30
  Speaker 2: Have you never a charger will carry two? Then the
• 27:33
  Speaker 2: company halted and laughed out loud. Was such a request
• 27:38
  Speaker 2: ever made to a knight? And where are your legs?
• 27:41
  Speaker 2: Asked one? If you start, you may be inside the
• 27:44
  Speaker 2: town gates tonight tis a lazy fellow let him alone.
• 27:48
  Speaker 2: They've no room in the town for such idlers as he.
• 27:51
  Speaker 2: But one bent from his saddle and said, my man,
• 27:55
  Speaker 2: art thou not ashamed to beg charity? Thou art well
• 27:59
  Speaker 2: set up. My legs are strong, but it much misgives me.
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  Speaker 2: Lest thou art a fool, For beggars get only a
• 28:08
  Speaker 2: beggar's crust. Wise men are reared in a different school.
• 28:12
  Speaker 2: Then they clattered away in the dust in the wind,
• 28:15
  Speaker 2: and the fools slunk back to his lonely stone. He
• 28:19
  Speaker 2: began to see that the man who asks must likewise give,
• 28:23
  Speaker 2: and not ask alone. Purple tree shadows crept over the road,
• 28:28
  Speaker 2: the level sun flung an orange light, and the fool
• 28:32
  Speaker 2: laid his head on the hard gray stone and wept
• 28:36
  Speaker 2: as he realized. Advancing night, a great round moon rose
• 28:41
  Speaker 2: over the hell, and the steady wind blew yet more cool.
• 28:46
  Speaker 2: And crouched on a stone, away farer sobbed, for at
• 28:50
  Speaker 2: last he knew he was only a fool. End of poem.
• 28:56
  Speaker 2: This recording is in the public domain. The Green Ball
• 29:05
  Speaker 2: by Amy Lowell read for librovox dot Org by Rosslyn Carlyle.
• 29:13
  Speaker 2: This little ball is like a mossy pool in a
• 29:16
  Speaker 2: spring wood, where dog tooth violets grow, nodding in checkered
• 29:22
  Speaker 2: sunshine of the trees, A quiet place, still with the
• 29:26
  Speaker 2: sound of birds, where though unseen, is heard the endless
• 29:32
  Speaker 2: song and murmur of the never resting sea. Twas winter
• 29:37
  Speaker 2: Roger when you made this cup, but coming spring guided
• 29:42
  Speaker 2: your eager hand, and round the edge you fashioned young
• 29:45
  Speaker 2: green leaves, a proper chalice, made to hold the shy
• 29:49
  Speaker 2: and little flowers of the woods. And here they will
• 29:53
  Speaker 2: forget their sad uprooting, lost in pleasure, that this circle
• 29:58
  Speaker 2: of bright leaves should be their setting. Once more, they
• 30:01
  Speaker 2: will dream they hear winds wandering through lofty trees, and
• 30:05
  Speaker 2: see the sun smiling between the leaves. End of poem.
• 30:11
  Speaker 2: This recording is in the public domain. Hora stellatrix by
• 30:20
  Speaker 2: Amy Lowell, red for Librovoks dot Org by Rosslyn Carlile.
• 30:27
  Speaker 2: The stars hang thick in the apple tree, the south
• 30:30
  Speaker 2: wind smells of the pungent sea. Gold culip cups are
• 30:34
  Speaker 2: heavy with dew. The nights for you, sweetheart, for you,
• 30:39
  Speaker 2: starfire rains from the vaulted blue. Listen the dancing of
• 30:45
  Speaker 2: unseen leaves. A drowsy swallow stirs in the eaves. Only
• 30:50
  Speaker 2: a maiden is sorrowing. Tis night and spring, sweetheart, and spring,
• 30:56
  Speaker 2: starfire lights your heart's blossoming in the intimate dark. There's
• 31:02
  Speaker 2: never an ear, though the tulips stand on tiptoe to hear.
• 31:07
  Speaker 2: So give ripe fruit, must shrivel or fall as you
• 31:11
  Speaker 2: are mine, sweetheart, Give all starfire sparkles your coronal End
• 31:19
  Speaker 2: of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 31:26
  Speaker 5: Fragment by Amy Lowell readful librevaksta or by Anusha Ayr
• 31:33
  Speaker 5: fragment What is poetry? Is it a mosaic of colored
• 31:40
  Speaker 5: stones which curiously are wrought into a pattern. Rather glass
• 31:47
  Speaker 5: that's taught by patient labor any hue to take and
• 31:52
  Speaker 5: glowing with a sumptuous splendor. Make beauty a thing of
• 31:58
  Speaker 5: awe where sunbeams caught transmuted, fall in sheafs of rainbows,
• 32:07
  Speaker 5: fraught with storied meaning for religion's sake. End of poem.
• 32:13
  Speaker 5: This recording is in the public domain. Loon point by
• 32:24
  Speaker 5: Amy Lowell, rightful ybrivaksta org by Anusha Ayir loon point.
• 32:32
  Speaker 5: Softly the water ripples against the canoe's curving side. Softly,
• 32:38
  Speaker 5: the birch trees rustle, flinging over us, branches wide softly.
• 32:45
  Speaker 5: The moon glints and glistens as the water takes and leaves,
• 32:51
  Speaker 5: like golden ears of corn which fall from loose bound sheaves,
• 32:57
  Speaker 5: or like the snow white petals which which drop from
• 33:00
  Speaker 5: an overblown rose. When summer ripens to autumn and the
• 33:06
  Speaker 5: freighted year must close from the shore, come the scents
• 33:11
  Speaker 5: of a garden, And between a gap in the trees,
• 33:15
  Speaker 5: a proud white statue glimmers in cold, disdainful ease, the
• 33:22
  Speaker 5: child of a southern people, the thought of an alien race.
• 33:27
  Speaker 5: What does she in this pale northern garden, how reconcile
• 33:32
  Speaker 5: it with her grace? But the moon, in her wayward
• 33:37
  Speaker 5: beauty is ever and always the same, as lovely as
• 33:42
  Speaker 5: when upon lapness she watched till Endymion came through the water.
• 33:50
  Speaker 5: The moon writes her legends in light on the smooth,
• 33:55
  Speaker 5: wet sand. They endure for a moment and vanish, and
• 34:00
  Speaker 5: no one may understand. All round us the secret of
• 34:06
  Speaker 5: nature is telling itself to our sight. We may guess
• 34:11
  Speaker 5: at her meaning, but never can know the full mystery
• 34:17
  Speaker 5: of night. But her power of enchantment is on us
• 34:22
  Speaker 5: we bow to the spell which she weaves, made up
• 34:27
  Speaker 5: of the murmur of waves and the manifold whisper of leaves.
• 34:34
  Speaker 5: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 34:45
  Speaker 5: Summer read for Librivaksta or by Anusha Ayir. Summer. Some
• 34:53
  Speaker 5: men there are who find in nature all their inspiration,
• 34:58
  Speaker 5: hers the sympathy which spurs them on to any great endeavor.
• 35:04
  Speaker 5: To them, the fields and woods are closest friends, and
• 35:08
  Speaker 5: they hold dear communion with the hills. The voice of
• 35:13
  Speaker 5: waters soothes them with its fall, and the great winds
• 35:18
  Speaker 5: bring healing in their sound to them. A city is
• 35:22
  Speaker 5: a prison house where bent up human forces labor and strife,
• 35:29
  Speaker 5: where beauty dwells, not driven forth by man, but where
• 35:35
  Speaker 5: in winter they must live until summer gives back the
• 35:39
  Speaker 5: spaces of the hills.
• 35:42
  Speaker 2: To me.
• 35:43
  Speaker 4: It is not so.
• 35:45
  Speaker 5: I love the earth and all the gifts of her
• 35:49
  Speaker 5: so lavish hand, sunshine and flowers, rivers and rushing winds,
• 35:56
  Speaker 5: thick branches swaying in a winter storm, and moonlight playing
• 36:02
  Speaker 5: in a boat's wide wake. But more than these, and much, ah,
• 36:08
  Speaker 5: how much more I love the very human heart of
• 36:13
  Speaker 5: man above me spreads the hot blue mid day sky.
• 36:21
  Speaker 5: Far down the hillside lies the sleeping lake, lazily reflecting
• 36:26
  Speaker 5: back the sun and scarcely ruffled by the little breeze
• 36:32
  Speaker 5: which wanders idly through the nodding ferns. The blue crest
• 36:37
  Speaker 5: of the distant mountain tops the green crest of the
• 36:42
  Speaker 5: hill on which I sit. And it is summer, glorious,
• 36:47
  Speaker 5: deep toned summer, the very crown of nature's changing year,
• 36:53
  Speaker 5: when all her surging life is at its full. To
• 36:58
  Speaker 5: me alone, it is a time of pause, a void
• 37:03
  Speaker 5: in silent space between two worlds, when inspiration lags and
• 37:10
  Speaker 5: feeling sleeps, gathering strength for efforts yet to come. For
• 37:17
  Speaker 5: life lone is creator of life, and closest contact with
• 37:22
  Speaker 5: the human world is like a lantern shining in the
• 37:26
  Speaker 5: night to light me to a knowledge of myself. I
• 37:31
  Speaker 5: love the vivid life of winter months, in constant intercourse
• 37:37
  Speaker 5: with human minds. With every new experience is gain, and
• 37:43
  Speaker 5: on all sides we feel the great world's heart, the
• 37:48
  Speaker 5: pulse and throb of life which makes us men. End
• 37:55
  Speaker 5: of poem. This recording is in the public domain. To
• 38:05
  Speaker 5: Morrow to fresh woods and Pastures new by Amy Lowell,
• 38:10
  Speaker 5: read for Librivaksta Org by anusha air to morrow, to
• 38:16
  Speaker 5: fresh woods and pastures new As for a moment he
• 38:22
  Speaker 5: stands in hardy, masculine beauty, poised on the fur crested rock,
• 38:30
  Speaker 5: over the pool which below him gleams in the wavering sunlight,
• 38:36
  Speaker 5: waiting the shock of his plunging. So for a moment
• 38:41
  Speaker 5: I stand, my feet planted firm in the present, eagerly
• 38:46
  Speaker 5: scanning the future, which is so soon to possess me.
• 38:53
  Speaker 5: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 39:03
  Speaker 2: The Way by Amy Lowell read for librovokx dot Org
• 39:07
  Speaker 2: by Roslyn Carlyle. At first a mere thread of a footpath,
• 39:14
  Speaker 2: half blotted out by the grasses sweeping triumphant across it.
• 39:19
  Speaker 2: It wound between hedges of roses, whose blossoms were poised
• 39:24
  Speaker 2: above leaves as pond lily's float on the water, While
• 39:28
  Speaker 2: hidden by bloom in a hawthorn, A bird filled the
• 39:32
  Speaker 2: morning with singing. It widened a highway majestic, stretching ever
• 39:39
  Speaker 2: to distant horizons, where shadows of tree branches wavered, vague
• 39:45
  Speaker 2: outlines invaded by sunshine, no sound but the wind as
• 39:50
  Speaker 2: it whispered the secrets of Earth to the flowers and
• 39:53
  Speaker 2: the hum of the yellow bees, honey laden and dusty
• 39:57
  Speaker 2: with pollen and summer, said calm, follow onward with no
• 40:02
  Speaker 2: thought save the longing to wander. The wind and the
• 40:05
  Speaker 2: bees and the flowers, all singing the great song of nature,
• 40:09
  Speaker 2: are minstrels of change and of promise. They herald the
• 40:14
  Speaker 2: joy of the future. Later, the solitude vanished, confused and
• 40:19
  Speaker 2: distracted the road where many were seeking and jostling. Left
• 40:24
  Speaker 2: behind were the trees and the flowers, the half realized
• 40:28
  Speaker 2: beauty of quiet, the sacred, unconscious communing. And now he
• 40:33
  Speaker 2: has come to a river, a line of gray, sullen water,
• 40:39
  Speaker 2: not blue and splashing, but dark, rolling sombrely onto the ocean.
• 40:45
  Speaker 2: But on the far side is a city whose windows
• 40:48
  Speaker 2: flame gold in the sunset. It lies fair and shining
• 40:53
  Speaker 2: before him, a gem set betwixt sky and water, and
• 40:57
  Speaker 2: spanning the river. A bridge will promise to longing desire,
• 41:02
  Speaker 2: flung by man in his infinite courage across the stern
• 41:06
  Speaker 2: force of the water. And he looks at the river
• 41:10
  Speaker 2: and fears. The bridge is so slight. Yet he ventures
• 41:14
  Speaker 2: his life to its fragile keeping. If it fail, as
• 41:18
  Speaker 2: the waves will engulf him. Oh, arches be strong to
• 41:22
  Speaker 2: uphold him and bear him across to the city, the
• 41:26
  Speaker 2: beautiful city whose spires still glow with the fires of sunset.
• 41:34
  Speaker 2: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 41:42
  Speaker 2: Delta iota psi alpha by Amy Lowell, read for librovox
• 41:48
  Speaker 2: dot org by Ruslyn Corrale. Looke, Dear, how bright the
• 41:53
  Speaker 2: moonlight is tonight. See where it cuts the shadow of
• 41:57
  Speaker 2: that tree far out upon the ras, And every gust
• 42:02
  Speaker 2: of light night wind comes laden with the scent of
• 42:05
  Speaker 2: opening flowers which never bloom by day night, scented stalks,
• 42:11
  Speaker 2: and four o'clocks, And that pale yellow disk upreared on
• 42:15
  Speaker 2: its tall stalk, the evening primrose, comrade of the stars.
• 42:20
  Speaker 2: It seems as though the garden which you love were
• 42:23
  Speaker 2: like a swinging censor, its incense floating before us, as
• 42:27
  Speaker 2: a reverent act to sanctify and bless our night of love.
• 42:32
  Speaker 2: Tell me once more you love me? That tis you, Yes,
• 42:36
  Speaker 2: really you. I touch so with my hand and tell
• 42:40
  Speaker 2: me it is by your own free will that you
• 42:42
  Speaker 2: are here, and that you'll like to be just here
• 42:46
  Speaker 2: with me under this sailing pine. I need to hear
• 42:50
  Speaker 2: it often, for my heart doubts naturally and finds it
• 42:53
  Speaker 2: hard to trust. Ah, dearest, you are good to love
• 42:57
  Speaker 2: me so, and yet I would not have it goodness,
• 43:01
  Speaker 2: rather excessive selfishness in you to need me through and
• 43:05
  Speaker 2: through as flowers need the sun. I wonder, can it
• 43:09
  Speaker 2: really be that you and I are here alone, and
• 43:13
  Speaker 2: that the night is full of ours, and all the
• 43:16
  Speaker 2: world asleep, and none can call to you to come away?
• 43:21
  Speaker 2: For you have given all yourself to me, making me
• 43:24
  Speaker 2: gentle by your willingness? Has your life too been waiting
• 43:28
  Speaker 2: for this time, not only mine? The sharpness of this joy,
• 43:33
  Speaker 2: dear heart, I love you, worship you as though I
• 43:37
  Speaker 2: were a priest before a holy shrine. I'm glad that
• 43:42
  Speaker 2: you are beautiful, although were you not lovely? Still I
• 43:46
  Speaker 2: needs must love. But you are all things. It must
• 43:50
  Speaker 2: have been so, for otherwise it were not.
• 43:52
  Speaker 6: You.
• 43:53
  Speaker 2: Come close. When you are in the circle of my arm,
• 43:57
  Speaker 2: faith grows a mountain and I take my stand upon
• 44:01
  Speaker 2: its utmost top. Yes, Yes, once more, kiss me and
• 44:05
  Speaker 2: let me feel you very near, wanting me wholly even
• 44:09
  Speaker 2: as I want you. Have years behind been dark, all
• 44:13
  Speaker 2: those to come bring unguest sorrows into our two lives.
• 44:17
  Speaker 2: What does it matter we have had tonight. Tonight will
• 44:21
  Speaker 2: make us strong, for we believe in each other. This
• 44:24
  Speaker 2: is a sacrament, beloved, Is it true? End of poem.
• 44:31
  Speaker 2: This recording is in the public domain. Roads by Amy
• 44:41
  Speaker 2: Lowell read for librovox dot Org by Roslyn Carlyle. I
• 44:48
  Speaker 2: know a country laced with roads. They join the hills,
• 44:51
  Speaker 2: and they span the brooks. They weave like a shuttle
• 44:55
  Speaker 2: between broad fields, and slide discreetly through hidden nooks. They
• 45:01
  Speaker 2: are canopied like a Persian dome and carpeted with orient dyes.
• 45:07
  Speaker 2: They are merriad, voiced and musical, and scented with happiest memories.
• 45:13
  Speaker 2: Oh winding roads that I know so well, every twist
• 45:17
  Speaker 2: and turn, every hollow and hell, they are set in
• 45:21
  Speaker 2: my heart to a pulsing tune, gay as a honey
• 45:24
  Speaker 2: bee humming in June. Tis the rhythmic beat of a
• 45:28
  Speaker 2: horse's feet, and the pattering paws of a sheep dog.
• 45:31
  Speaker 2: Bitch tis the creaking trees and the singing breeze, and
• 45:36
  Speaker 2: the rustle of leaves in the roadside ditch. A cow
• 45:41
  Speaker 2: in a meadow shakes her bell, and the notes cut
• 45:44
  Speaker 2: sharp through the autumn air. Each chattering brook bears a
• 45:48
  Speaker 2: fleet of leaves, their cargo the rainbow. And just now
• 45:52
  Speaker 2: where the sun splashed bright on the road ahead, a
• 45:55
  Speaker 2: startled rabbit quivered and fled. Oh uphill road and roads
• 46:00
  Speaker 2: that dip down. You curl your sun spattered length along,
• 46:04
  Speaker 2: and your march is beaten into a song by the
• 46:07
  Speaker 2: softly ringing hoofs of a horse and the panting breath
• 46:11
  Speaker 2: of the dogs. I love the pageant of autumn follows
• 46:14
  Speaker 2: its course, and the blue sky of autumn laughs above,
• 46:20
  Speaker 2: and the song in the country become as one. I
• 46:23
  Speaker 2: see it is music, I hear it is light, prismatic
• 46:26
  Speaker 2: and shimmering, trembling to tone the land of desire, my
• 46:30
  Speaker 2: soul's delight. And always it beats in my listening ears,
• 46:35
  Speaker 2: with the gentle thud of a horse's stride, with the
• 46:38
  Speaker 2: swift falling steps of many dogs following following at my side, Oh,
• 46:45
  Speaker 2: roads that journey to fairyland, radiant highways whose vistas gleam,
• 46:51
  Speaker 2: leading me on under crimson leaves to the opaline gates
• 46:55
  Speaker 2: of the castles of dream. End of this recording is
• 47:01
  Speaker 2: in the public domain. Tiatro Bambino Dublin nh By Amy
• 47:12
  Speaker 2: Lowell read for Labor Voux dot Org by Rosslyn Carlisle.
• 47:18
  Speaker 2: How still it is? Sunshine itself here falls in quiet
• 47:22
  Speaker 2: shafts of light through the high trees, which arching make
• 47:27
  Speaker 2: a roof above the walls, changing from sun to shadow
• 47:31
  Speaker 2: as each breeze lingers. A moment charmed by the strange
• 47:35
  Speaker 2: sight of an Italian theater, storied seer of vague romance
• 47:41
  Speaker 2: and time's long history, where tiers of grass grown seats
• 47:45
  Speaker 2: sprinkled with white, sweet scented clover for a broken sphere,
• 47:51
  Speaker 2: grouped round the stage in hushed expectancy. What sound is
• 47:57
  Speaker 2: that which echoes through the wood? Is it the note
• 48:00
  Speaker 2: of an out and pipe? Perchance a minute more will
• 48:03
  Speaker 2: see the brood of the shaggy forest god, and on
• 48:07
  Speaker 2: his lip will rest the rushes. He is wont to
• 48:10
  Speaker 2: play his train in woven baskets, bare ripe fruit, and
• 48:14
  Speaker 2: weave a dance with ropes of gray acorns. So light
• 48:19
  Speaker 2: there touched the grasses scarcely sway as they the measured
• 48:24
  Speaker 2: tread to the lilting flute. Alas tis only fancy, thus adorns.
• 48:31
  Speaker 2: A cloud drifts idly over the shining sun. How damp
• 48:35
  Speaker 2: it seems how silent, still and strange. Surely twas here
• 48:40
  Speaker 2: some tragedy was done, and here the chorus sang, each
• 48:44
  Speaker 2: coming change. Sure this is deep in some sweet southern wood.
• 48:50
  Speaker 2: These are not pines but cyprus, tall and dark. That
• 48:54
  Speaker 2: is no thrush which sings so rapturously, but the nightingale,
• 48:58
  Speaker 2: in his most passionate mood, bursting his little heart with
• 49:02
  Speaker 2: anguish hark. The tread of sandaled feet comes noiselessly. The
• 49:10
  Speaker 2: silence almost is a sound, and dreams take on the
• 49:13
  Speaker 2: semblances of finite things. So putent is the spell that
• 49:18
  Speaker 2: what but seems elsewhere is lifted here on Fancy's wings.
• 49:24
  Speaker 2: The little woodland theater seems to wait, all tremulous with
• 49:28
  Speaker 2: hope and wistful joy, for something that is sure to
• 49:31
  Speaker 2: come at last, some deep emotion satisfying great It grows
• 49:37
  Speaker 2: a living presence, bold and shy, cradling the future in
• 49:41
  Speaker 2: a glorious past. End of poem. This recording is in
• 49:47
  Speaker 2: the public domain. The Road to Avignon by Amy Lowell,
• 49:57
  Speaker 2: read for Librovos dot Org by Rosslynkerle. A minstrel stands
• 50:03
  Speaker 2: on a marble stair, blown by the bright wind. Deb
• 50:07
  Speaker 2: in air. Below lies the sea, a sapphire floor. Above,
• 50:12
  Speaker 2: on the terrace, a turret door frames a lady, listless
• 50:16
  Speaker 2: and wan but fair for the eye to rest upon.
• 50:21
  Speaker 2: The menstrul plucks at his silver strings, and, looking up
• 50:24
  Speaker 2: to the lady, sings down the road to Avignon the
• 50:29
  Speaker 2: long long road to Avignon. Across the bridge to Avignon
• 50:34
  Speaker 2: one morning in the spring, the octagon tower casts a shade,
• 50:40
  Speaker 2: cool and gray, like a cupless blade in sun baked vine.
• 50:44
  Speaker 2: As the kikala's spin, the little green lizards run out
• 50:48
  Speaker 2: and in. As sail depths over the ocean's rim, and
• 50:51
  Speaker 2: bubbles rise to the fountain's bream, the minstrel touches his
• 50:56
  Speaker 2: silver strings, and, gazing up to the lady, sings down
• 51:00
  Speaker 2: the road to Avignon the long long road to Avignon.
• 51:04
  Speaker 2: Across the bridge to Avignon one morning in the spring,
• 51:10
  Speaker 2: Slowly she walks to the ballustrade, idly notes how the
• 51:13
  Speaker 2: blossoms fade in the sun's caress, then crosses where the
• 51:18
  Speaker 2: shadow shelters a curving chair within its curve. Supine, she
• 51:22
  Speaker 2: lies and wearily closes her tired eyes. The minstrel beseeches
• 51:27
  Speaker 2: his silver strings and holding the lady's spellbound, sings down
• 51:33
  Speaker 2: the road to Avignon, the long long road to Avignon,
• 51:37
  Speaker 2: across the bridge to Avignon. One morning in the spring,
• 51:42
  Speaker 2: cloud sail over the distant trees. Petals are shaken down
• 51:47
  Speaker 2: by the breeze. They fall on the terrace tiles like snow.
• 51:51
  Speaker 2: The sighing of waves sounds far below. A hummingbird kisses
• 51:56
  Speaker 2: the lips of a rose. Then laden with honey and love,
• 51:59
  Speaker 2: he goes. The minstrel woos with his silver strings, and
• 52:04
  Speaker 2: climbing up to the lady, sings down the road to Avignon,
• 52:09
  Speaker 2: the long long road to Avignon, across the bridge to Avignon,
• 52:13
  Speaker 2: one morning in the spring, step by step, and he
• 52:18
  Speaker 2: comes to her, fearful lest she suddenly stir sunshine and silence,
• 52:24
  Speaker 2: and each to each, the loot and his singing their
• 52:27
  Speaker 2: only speech. He leans above her, her eyes unclose. The
• 52:32
  Speaker 2: humming bird enters another rouse. The minstrel hushes his silver strings,
• 52:38
  Speaker 2: hark the beating of hummingbird's wings down the road to Avignon,
• 52:44
  Speaker 2: the long long road to Avignon, across the bridge to Avignon,
• 52:49
  Speaker 2: one morning in the spring, end of poem. This recording
• 52:55
  Speaker 2: is in the public domain. New York at Night by
• 53:04
  Speaker 2: Amy Lowell, read for librovox dot Org by Rosslyn Carlyle.
• 53:11
  Speaker 2: A near horizon whose sharp jags cut brutally into a
• 53:16
  Speaker 2: sky of leaden heaviness, and crags of houses lift their
• 53:22
  Speaker 2: masonry ugly, and fowl and chimneys lieon snort outlined against
• 53:29
  Speaker 2: the gray of low hung cloud. I hear the sigh
• 53:34
  Speaker 2: the goaded city gives. Not day nor night can ease
• 53:39
  Speaker 2: her heart. Her anguished labors stay below straight streets, monotonous
• 53:47
  Speaker 2: from north and south, from east and west, stretch glittering
• 53:52
  Speaker 2: and luminous above one tower tops the rest and holds
• 53:58
  Speaker 2: aloft Man's cot constant quest time, joyless emblem of the
• 54:04
  Speaker 2: greed of millions, rubber of the best which Earth can give.
• 54:09
  Speaker 2: The vulgar creed has seared upon the night, its flaming,
• 54:14
  Speaker 2: ruthless screed. O night, whose soothing presence brings the quiet
• 54:22
  Speaker 2: shining of the stars, Oh night, whose collook of darkness
• 54:26
  Speaker 2: clings so intimately close that scars are hid from our
• 54:31
  Speaker 2: own eyes, beggars. By day our wealth is having night
• 54:37
  Speaker 2: to burn our souls before altars dim and trees shadowed,
• 54:43
  Speaker 2: where the light is shed from a young moon mysteriously bright.
• 54:49
  Speaker 2: Where art thou hiding, where thy peace? This is the hour,
• 54:53
  Speaker 2: But thou art not while waking tumult never cease, hast
• 54:58
  Speaker 2: thou thy votary for nature forsakes. This man begotten fasting wilderness,
• 55:06
  Speaker 2: And now the long still hours are here. No jot
• 55:10
  Speaker 2: of dear communing do I know? Instead? The glaring man
• 55:15
  Speaker 2: felt city groans below. End of poem. This recording is
• 55:23
  Speaker 2: in the public domain.
• 55:30
  Speaker 6: A fairy tale by Amy Lowell read Philipprivox dot Org
• 55:35
  Speaker 6: by Ian King. On winter nights, beside the nursery fire,
• 55:41
  Speaker 6: we read the fairy tale while glowing coals builded its pictures.
• 55:46
  Speaker 6: There before our eyes we saw the vaulted hall of
• 55:50
  Speaker 6: tracerd stone uprear itself, the distant ceiling hung with pendent
• 55:56
  Speaker 6: stalactites like frozen vines, and all along the walls at intervals,
• 56:02
  Speaker 6: curled upwards into pillars. Roses climbed and ramped, and were
• 56:07
  Speaker 6: confined and clustered, leaves divided where there peered a laughing face.
• 56:14
  Speaker 6: The foliage seemed to rustle in the wind. A silent
• 56:17
  Speaker 6: murmur carved in steel gray stone, high pointed windows pierced
• 56:23
  Speaker 6: to the southern wall. Whence prouder scutcheons flung prismatic fires
• 56:29
  Speaker 6: to stay in the tessellated marble floor with pools of
• 56:34
  Speaker 6: red and quivering green and blue. And in the shade
• 56:39
  Speaker 6: beyond the further door, its sober squares of black and
• 56:43
  Speaker 6: white were hid beneath. A restless, shuffling, wide eyed mob
• 56:48
  Speaker 6: of lackeys and retainers come to view the christening. A
• 56:54
  Speaker 6: sudden blare of trumpets, and the throng about the entrance
• 56:58
  Speaker 6: parted as the gale. Guests filed singly in with rare
• 57:02
  Speaker 6: and precious gifts. Our eager fancies noted all they brought,
• 57:08
  Speaker 6: the glorious, unattainable delights, But always there was one unbidden
• 57:13
  Speaker 6: guest who cursed the child and left it bitterness. The
• 57:20
  Speaker 6: fire falls asunder all is changed. I am no more
• 57:25
  Speaker 6: a child, and what I see is not a fairy tale,
• 57:30
  Speaker 6: but life, my life. The gifts are there, the many
• 57:35
  Speaker 6: pleasant things, health, wealth, long settled friendships, with a name
• 57:41
  Speaker 6: which honors all who bear it, and the power of
• 57:44
  Speaker 6: making words obedient. This is much, but overshadowing all is
• 57:51
  Speaker 6: still the curse that never shall I be fulfilled by
• 57:55
  Speaker 6: love along the parching high road of the world. No
• 58:01
  Speaker 6: other soul shall bear mine company always? Shall I be
• 58:05
  Speaker 6: teased with semblances, with crawel impostures which I trust awhile
• 58:10
  Speaker 6: then dashed to pieces as a careless boy flings a kaleidoscope, which,
• 58:16
  Speaker 6: shattering strews all the ground about with colored shards. So
• 58:23
  Speaker 6: I behold my visions on the ground, no longer radiant,
• 58:27
  Speaker 6: an ignoble heap of broken, dusty glass, and so unlit
• 58:33
  Speaker 6: even by hope or faith. My dragging steps force me
• 58:37
  Speaker 6: forever through the passing days. End of poem. This recording
• 58:45
  Speaker 6: is in the public domain.
• 58:53
  Speaker 7: Crowned by Amy Law read freely revoxed dot org by
• 58:58
  Speaker 7: Victoria Lexingdon. You came to me bearing bright roses, red
• 59:05
  Speaker 7: like the wine of your heart. You twisted them into
• 59:08
  Speaker 7: a garland to set me aside from the mart red
• 59:12
  Speaker 7: roses to crown mere lover. And I walked aerold and apart,
• 59:18
  Speaker 7: enslaved and encircled. I bore it proud token of my
• 59:22
  Speaker 7: gift to you. The petals waned paler and shriveled and dropped,
• 59:27
  Speaker 7: and the thorns started through bitter thorns to proclaim mere
• 59:32
  Speaker 7: lover a diadem woven withdrew end of poem. This recording
• 59:39
  Speaker 7: is in the public domain.
• 59:47
  Speaker 2: Two Elizabeth Ward Perkins by Amy Lowell. Ride for Librivolkes
• 59:52
  Speaker 2: dot Org by Rosslyn Carlyle. Dear Bassie, you would my
• 59:58
  Speaker 2: tired rhyme had forced a eyes from apathy and shaking
• 1:00:02
  Speaker 2: off its letter g ring word tones like a Christmas chime.
• 1:00:06
  Speaker 2: But in my soul's high belfry chill, the bitter wind
• 1:00:10
  Speaker 2: of doubt has blown. The summer swallows all have flown.
• 1:00:15
  Speaker 2: The bells are frost bound, mute, and still upon the
• 1:00:20
  Speaker 2: crumbling boards. The snow has drifted deep. The clappers hang
• 1:00:25
  Speaker 2: prismed with icicles. There clang unheard since ages long ago.
• 1:00:31
  Speaker 2: The rope I pull is stiff and cold. My straining
• 1:00:35
  Speaker 2: ears detect no sound except as sigh as round and
• 1:00:39
  Speaker 2: round the wind rocks through the timbers old below. I
• 1:00:45
  Speaker 2: know the church is bright with halude tapers, warm with prayers.
• 1:00:49
  Speaker 2: But here I only feel the air of icy centuries
• 1:00:54
  Speaker 2: of night. Beneath my feet. The snow is lit and
• 1:00:58
  Speaker 2: gemmed with colors red and blue, topaz and green. Where
• 1:01:03
  Speaker 2: light falls through the saints that in the windows set here,
• 1:01:08
  Speaker 2: darkness seems a spectered thing, voiceless and haunting, while the
• 1:01:12
  Speaker 2: stars mock with a light of long dead years, the
• 1:01:16
  Speaker 2: ache of present suffering silent and winter killed. I stand
• 1:01:22
  Speaker 2: no Carol hymns my debt to you. But take this
• 1:01:26
  Speaker 2: frozen thought in lieu and thaw its music in your hand.
• 1:01:33
  Speaker 2: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:01:41
  Speaker 2: The Promise of the Morning Star by Amy Lowell, read
• 1:01:45
  Speaker 2: for Librovoks dot Org by Rosslyn Carlile. Thou, father of
• 1:01:52
  Speaker 2: the children of my brain, by THEE engendered in my
• 1:01:56
  Speaker 2: willing heart? How can I thank THEE for this gift
• 1:02:00
  Speaker 2: of art, poured out so lavishly and not in vain.
• 1:02:06
  Speaker 2: What Thou created never more can die. Thy fructifying power
• 1:02:11
  Speaker 2: lives in me, and I conceive knowing it is by THEE,
• 1:02:16
  Speaker 2: dear other parent of my poetry. For I was but
• 1:02:21
  Speaker 2: a shadow with a name, perhaps by now the very
• 1:02:25
  Speaker 2: names forgot. So strange is fate that it has been
• 1:02:29
  Speaker 2: my lot to learn through THEE, the presence of that
• 1:02:32
  Speaker 2: aim which ever more must guide me, all unknown by
• 1:02:38
  Speaker 2: me and guested by THEE, not even dreamed. A tree
• 1:02:42
  Speaker 2: has blossomed in a knight that seemed of stubborn barren wood.
• 1:02:47
  Speaker 2: For thou hast sown this seed of beauty in a
• 1:02:51
  Speaker 2: ground of truth. Humbly I dedicate myself, and yet I
• 1:02:56
  Speaker 2: tremble with a sudden fear to say new music ringing
• 1:03:00
  Speaker 2: through my fading youth. End of poem. This recording is
• 1:03:06
  Speaker 2: in the public domain. JK. Housman's by Amy Lowell, read
• 1:03:17
  Speaker 2: for LibriVox dot Org by Rosslyn Carlyle. A flickering glimmer
• 1:03:24
  Speaker 2: through a window pane, a dim red glare through mud
• 1:03:28
  Speaker 2: bespattered glass, cleaving a path between blown walls of sleet,
• 1:03:34
  Speaker 2: across uneven pavements, sunk in slime, to scatter and then
• 1:03:40
  Speaker 2: quench itself in mist and struggling, slipping, often rudely, hurled
• 1:03:46
  Speaker 2: against the jutting angle of a wall, and cursed and
• 1:03:50
  Speaker 2: reeled against and flung aside by drunken brawlers as they
• 1:03:54
  Speaker 2: shuffled past. A man was grouping to what seemed alight.
• 1:03:59
  Speaker 2: His eye burnt and quivered with the strain of looking,
• 1:04:04
  Speaker 2: and against his temples beat the all enshrouding suffocating dark.
• 1:04:10
  Speaker 2: He stumbled, lurched, and struck against a door that opened,
• 1:04:15
  Speaker 2: and a howl of obscene mirth grated his senses. Wallowing
• 1:04:19
  Speaker 2: on the floor lay men and dogs and women in
• 1:04:24
  Speaker 2: the dirt, he sickened, loothing it, and as he gazed,
• 1:04:29
  Speaker 2: the candle guttered, flared, and then went out through to
• 1:04:35
  Speaker 2: a veil of ignoble midnight streets. He came at last
• 1:04:39
  Speaker 2: to shelter in a porch, where Gothic saints and warriors
• 1:04:43
  Speaker 2: made a shield to cover him, and tortured gargoyles spat
• 1:04:48
  Speaker 2: one long, continuous stream of silver rain that clattered down
• 1:04:52
  Speaker 2: from myriad roofs and spires into a darkness, loud with
• 1:04:57
  Speaker 2: rushing sound of water falling, gurgling as it fell, but
• 1:05:02
  Speaker 2: always thickly dark. Then as he leaned unconscious, where the
• 1:05:09
  Speaker 2: great outdoor blew back and cast him bruised and dripping
• 1:05:13
  Speaker 2: in the church, his eyes, from long sojourning in the
• 1:05:18
  Speaker 2: night were blinded now as by some glorious sun. He
• 1:05:22
  Speaker 2: slowly crawled towards the altar steps. He could not think,
• 1:05:27
  Speaker 2: for heavy in his ears. An organ boomed majestic harmonies.
• 1:05:32
  Speaker 2: He only knew that what he saw was light. He
• 1:05:36
  Speaker 2: bowed himself before a cross of flame and shut his
• 1:05:40
  Speaker 2: eyes in fear lest it should fade. End of poem.
• 1:05:47
  Speaker 2: This recording is in the public domain. March Evening by
• 1:05:56
  Speaker 2: Emmy Lowell read for libervoks dot org by Moslyn Carlisle.
• 1:06:03
  Speaker 2: Blue through the Window burns the twilight heavy through trees,
• 1:06:08
  Speaker 2: blows the warm south wind glistening against the chill gray
• 1:06:14
  Speaker 2: sky light. Wet black branches are barred and entwined, sodden
• 1:06:21
  Speaker 2: and spongy. The scarce green grass plot dense into pools
• 1:06:26
  Speaker 2: where a foot has been puddles lie spelt in the road.
• 1:06:30
  Speaker 2: A mass not of water but steel, with its cold,
• 1:06:34
  Speaker 2: hard sheen faint fades the fire on the hearth, its
• 1:06:39
  Speaker 2: embers scattering wide at a stronger gust. Above the old
• 1:06:45
  Speaker 2: weather cock groans but remembers, creaking to turn in its
• 1:06:50
  Speaker 2: centuried rust, dying forlorn in dreary sorrow, wrapping the mists
• 1:06:58
  Speaker 2: round her withering form. Day sinks down, and in darkness
• 1:07:03
  Speaker 2: Tomorrow prevails to birth in the womb of the storm.
• 1:07:09
  Speaker 2: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:07:18
  Speaker 2: Leisure by Amy Lowell read for librovox dot org by
• 1:07:22
  Speaker 2: Roslyn Carlyle. Leisure thou goddess of a bygone age when
• 1:07:30
  Speaker 2: hours were long and days suffice to hold wide eyed
• 1:07:34
  Speaker 2: delight and pleasures uncontrolled by shortening moments, when no gaunt
• 1:07:41
  Speaker 2: presage of undone duties, modern heritage haunted our happy minds.
• 1:07:47
  Speaker 2: Must thou withhold thy presence from this over busy world,
• 1:07:51
  Speaker 2: and bearing silence with thee disengage our twined fortunes. Deeps
• 1:07:57
  Speaker 2: of unhewn woods alone can cherish the alone possess by quiet,
• 1:08:03
  Speaker 2: teeming vigor. This is our crime not to have worshiped,
• 1:08:08
  Speaker 2: marred by alien moods, that soul condition of all loveladess,
• 1:08:13
  Speaker 2: that dreaming lapse of slow, unmeasured time. End of poem.
• 1:08:20
  Speaker 2: This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:08:29
  Speaker 8: On Carpaccio's picture The Dream of Saint Ushaw by Amy Lowell,
• 1:08:34
  Speaker 8: read forlibrivox dot Org by Karin Sampson. Swept clean and
• 1:08:41
  Speaker 8: still across the polished floor from some unshuttered casement, hid
• 1:08:46
  Speaker 8: from sight, the level sunshine slants its greater light, quenching
• 1:08:51
  Speaker 8: the little lamp, which pallid, poor, flickering unreplenished at the door,
• 1:08:57
  Speaker 8: has striven against darkness. The long night dawn fills the
• 1:09:01
  Speaker 8: room and penetrating bright The silent sunbeams through the window poor,
• 1:09:06
  Speaker 8: and she lies sleeping, ignorant of fate, ameshed in listless dreams,
• 1:09:12
  Speaker 8: her soul not yet ripened to bear the purport of
• 1:09:16
  Speaker 8: this day. The morning breeze scarce stirs the coverlet a
• 1:09:20
  Speaker 8: shadow falls across the sunlight weight. A lark is singing
• 1:09:25
  Speaker 8: as he flies away. End of poem. This recording is
• 1:09:30
  Speaker 8: in the public domain.
• 1:09:37
  Speaker 2: The Matrix by Amy Lowell read for librovox dot Org
• 1:09:41
  Speaker 2: by Roslyn Carlyle. Goaded and harassed in the factory that
• 1:09:47
  Speaker 2: tears our life up into beds of days, ticked off
• 1:09:51
  Speaker 2: upon a clock which never stays, shredding our portion of eternity,
• 1:09:56
  Speaker 2: we break away at last and steal the key which
• 1:10:00
  Speaker 2: hides a world empty of hours. Ways of space unroll,
• 1:10:05
  Speaker 2: and heaven overlays the leafy, sunlit earth of fantasy beyond
• 1:10:11
  Speaker 2: the eelec's shadow glares, the sun scorching against the blue
• 1:10:15
  Speaker 2: flame of the sky. Brown lily pads lie heavy and
• 1:10:20
  Speaker 2: supine within a granite basin, under one the bronze gold
• 1:10:25
  Speaker 2: glimmer of a carp and I reach out my hand
• 1:10:29
  Speaker 2: and pluck a nectarine. End of poem. This recording is
• 1:10:34
  Speaker 2: in the public domain. Monadnac in early Spring by Amy Lowell,
• 1:10:45
  Speaker 2: read for Librovox dot org by Rosslyn Carlyle. Cloud topped
• 1:10:52
  Speaker 2: and splendid, dominating all the little, lesser hills which compass thee.
• 1:10:59
  Speaker 2: Thou stand undest, bright with aprils by and sea, yet
• 1:11:03
  Speaker 2: holding winter in some shaded wall of stern, steep rock,
• 1:11:08
  Speaker 2: and startled by the call of spring. Thy trees flush
• 1:11:13
  Speaker 2: with expectancy, and cast a cloud of crimson silently above
• 1:11:19
  Speaker 2: thy snowy crevices, where fall pale shriveled oak leaves, while
• 1:11:24
  Speaker 2: the snow beneath melts at their phantom touch. Another year
• 1:11:29
  Speaker 2: is quick with import such each year has been unmoved.
• 1:11:34
  Speaker 2: Thou watchest all, and all bequeath some jewel to thy
• 1:11:38
  Speaker 2: diadem of power, thou pledge of greater majesty unseen. End
• 1:11:47
  Speaker 2: of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The
• 1:11:55
  Speaker 2: Little Garden by Amy Lowell, read for Librovox dot org
• 1:11:59
  Speaker 2: by Rosslyn Carlisle. A little garden on a bleak hillside,
• 1:12:05
  Speaker 2: where deep the heavy, dazzling mountain snow lies far into
• 1:12:09
  Speaker 2: the spring. The sun's pale glow is scarcely able to
• 1:12:14
  Speaker 2: melt patches wide about the single rose boushe all denied
• 1:12:19
  Speaker 2: of nature's tender ministries, but now for wonder working faith
• 1:12:24
  Speaker 2: has made it blow with flowers, many hued and starry eyed.
• 1:12:30
  Speaker 2: Here sleeps the sun long idle summer hours. Here butterflies
• 1:12:35
  Speaker 2: and bees fare far to roof amid the crumple leaves
• 1:12:39
  Speaker 2: of poppy flowers. Here four o'clocks to the passionate night above,
• 1:12:45
  Speaker 2: fulling whiffs of perfume, like pale incense showers A little
• 1:12:50
  Speaker 2: garden loved with a great love. End of poem. This
• 1:12:56
  Speaker 2: recording is in the public domain. To an early daffodil
• 1:13:05
  Speaker 2: by Amy Lowell read for librovoks dot Org by Rosslyn Carlisle.
• 1:13:12
  Speaker 2: Thou yellow trumpeter of laggard spring, thou herald of rich
• 1:13:17
  Speaker 2: summer's myriad flowers. The climbing sun, with new recovered powers,
• 1:13:22
  Speaker 2: does warm thee into being. Through the ring of rich
• 1:13:27
  Speaker 2: brown earth. He woos thee, makes thee fling thy green
• 1:13:32
  Speaker 2: shoots up inheriting the dowers of bending sky and sun
• 1:13:37
  Speaker 2: sweeping showers, tell ripe and blossoming. Thou art a thing
• 1:13:43
  Speaker 2: to make all nature glad. Thou art so gay to
• 1:13:47
  Speaker 2: fill the lonely with a joy untold nodding at every
• 1:13:51
  Speaker 2: gust of wind, to day tomorrow, jeweled with rain drops,
• 1:13:56
  Speaker 2: always bold to stand erect full in the dazzling play
• 1:14:02
  Speaker 2: of April sun. For thou hast caught his gold end
• 1:14:08
  Speaker 2: of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:14:16
  Speaker 9: Listening by Amy Lowell read for LibriVox dot Org by C. J.
• 1:14:23
  Speaker 10: Plog.
• 1:14:26
  Speaker 9: Tis you that are the music, not your song. The
• 1:14:29
  Speaker 9: song is but a door which, opening wide, lets forth
• 1:14:33
  Speaker 9: the pent up melody inside your spirit's harmony, which clear
• 1:14:37
  Speaker 9: and strong sings but of you, throughout your whole life. Long,
• 1:14:41
  Speaker 9: your songs, your thoughts, your doings each divide this perfect
• 1:14:47
  Speaker 9: beauty waves within a tide or single notes amid a
• 1:14:51
  Speaker 9: glorious throng. The song of Earth has many different chords.
• 1:14:56
  Speaker 9: Ocean has many moods and many tones. Ocean in the
• 1:15:01
  Speaker 9: damp spring woods, the painted trillium smiles, while crisp pine
• 1:15:05
  Speaker 9: cones autumn alone can ripen. So is this one music
• 1:15:11
  Speaker 9: with a thousand cadences? End of listening. This recording is
• 1:15:17
  Speaker 9: in the public domain.
• 1:15:24
  Speaker 10: The Lamp of Life by Amy Lowell read for librevox
• 1:15:30
  Speaker 10: dot org by Greg Giardano. The Lamp of Life, Always
• 1:15:37
  Speaker 10: we are following a light. Always the light recedes. With
• 1:15:43
  Speaker 10: groping hands, we stretch toward this glory, while the lands
• 1:15:49
  Speaker 10: we journey through are hidden from our sight, dim and mysterious,
• 1:15:55
  Speaker 10: folded deep in night. We care. Not all our utmost
• 1:16:01
  Speaker 10: need demands is but the light, the light so still
• 1:16:06
  Speaker 10: it stands surely our own. If we exert our might
• 1:16:12
  Speaker 10: fool never canst thou grasp this fleeting gleam. Its glowing
• 1:16:17
  Speaker 10: flame would die if it were caught. Its value is
• 1:16:22
  Speaker 10: that it doth always seem but just a little farther on, distraught,
• 1:16:29
  Speaker 10: but lighted ever onward we are brought upon our way,
• 1:16:34
  Speaker 10: unknowing in a dream. End of poem. This recording is
• 1:16:42
  Speaker 10: in the public domain. Hero Worship by Amy Lowell, read
• 1:16:55
  Speaker 10: for LibriVox dot org by Greg Giardano. Hero Worship A
• 1:17:02
  Speaker 10: face scene passing in a crowded street, a voice heard
• 1:17:07
  Speaker 10: singing music large and free, And from that moment life
• 1:17:13
  Speaker 10: is changed, and we become of more heroic temper, meet
• 1:17:20
  Speaker 10: to freely ask and give a man complete radiant. Because
• 1:17:26
  Speaker 10: of faith we dare to be what nature meant us
• 1:17:31
  Speaker 10: brave idolatry which can conceive a hero, no deceit, no
• 1:17:38
  Speaker 10: knowledge taught by unrelenting years can quench this fierce, untamable desire.
• 1:17:46
  Speaker 10: We know that what we long for, once achieved, will
• 1:17:51
  Speaker 10: cease to satisfy. Be still our fears. If what we
• 1:17:57
  Speaker 10: worship fail us still, the fire burns on, and it
• 1:18:02
  Speaker 10: is much to have believed. End of poem. This recording
• 1:18:10
  Speaker 10: is in the public domain. In Darkness by Amy Lowell
• 1:18:22
  Speaker 10: read for LibriVox dot Org by Greg Giardano. In Darkness?
• 1:18:31
  Speaker 10: Must all of worth be traveled for? And those life's
• 1:18:36
  Speaker 10: brightest stars rise from a troubled sea? Must years go
• 1:18:41
  Speaker 10: by in sad uncertainty, leaving us doubting whose the conquering
• 1:18:48
  Speaker 10: blows are we or fate the victors? Time, which shows
• 1:18:55
  Speaker 10: all inner meanings, will reveal, but we shall never know.
• 1:19:00
  Speaker 10: The upshot ours to be wasted with longing, shattered in
• 1:19:07
  Speaker 10: the throes the agonies of splendid dreams, which day dims
• 1:19:14
  Speaker 10: from our vision, but each night brings back. We strive
• 1:19:19
  Speaker 10: to hold their grandeur and essay to be the thing
• 1:19:23
  Speaker 10: we dream. Sudden we lack the flash of insight, Life
• 1:19:29
  Speaker 10: grows drear and gray, and hour follows our nerveless slack.
• 1:19:39
  Speaker 10: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:19:52
  Speaker 9: Before Dawn by Amy Lowell read for LibriVox dot Org
• 1:19:57
  Speaker 9: by C. J. Plok. Life mustere arbiter of each man's fate,
• 1:20:02
  Speaker 9: by whom he learns that nature's steadfast laws are his
• 1:20:05
  Speaker 9: decrees immutable. Oh pause your even forward march not yet
• 1:20:11
  Speaker 9: too late, teach me the needed lesson when to wait
• 1:20:15
  Speaker 9: inactive as a ship when no wind draws to stretch
• 1:20:19
  Speaker 9: the loosened cordage, one implores thy Clemency, whose wilfulness innate
• 1:20:24
  Speaker 9: has gone uncurbed and roughshod while the years have lengthened
• 1:20:28
  Speaker 9: into decades. Now distressed, he knows no rule by which
• 1:20:32
  Speaker 9: to move or stay, and teased with restlessness and desperate fears,
• 1:20:37
  Speaker 9: he dares not watch in silence thy wise way, bringing
• 1:20:41
  Speaker 9: about the results none could have guessed and of Before Dawn.
• 1:20:47
  Speaker 9: This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:20:55
  Speaker 10: The Poet by Amy Lowell read for Eyebrivaks dot Org
• 1:21:02
  Speaker 10: by Greg Girdano. The poet what instinct forces man to
• 1:21:09
  Speaker 10: journey on? Urged by a longing, blind but dominant, nothing
• 1:21:15
  Speaker 10: he sees can hold him, nothing daunt his never failing eagerness.
• 1:21:22
  Speaker 10: The sun setting in splendor every night has won his vacilage.
• 1:21:29
  Speaker 10: Those towers, flamboyant of airy cloudland palaces, now haunt his
• 1:21:36
  Speaker 10: daylight wanderings. Forever done with simple joys and quiet happiness,
• 1:21:44
  Speaker 10: he guards the vision of the sunset sky, though faint
• 1:21:49
  Speaker 10: with weariness, he must possess some fragment of the sunset's majesty.
• 1:21:57
  Speaker 10: He spurns life's human friendships to profess life's loneliness, of dreaming, ecstasy,
• 1:22:07
  Speaker 10: and of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:22:18
  Speaker 3: At Night by Amy Lowell, read for LibriVox dot Org
• 1:22:22
  Speaker 3: by Jennifer Dolmen. The wind is singing through the trees tonight,
• 1:22:27
  Speaker 3: a deep voice sung of rushing cadences and crashing intervals.
• 1:22:32
  Speaker 3: No summer breeze is this, though the hot July is
• 1:22:35
  Speaker 3: at its height. Gone is her gentler music. With delight,
• 1:22:39
  Speaker 3: she listens to this booming like the seas, these elemental
• 1:22:43
  Speaker 3: loud necessities which call to her to answer their swift might.
• 1:22:48
  Speaker 3: Above the tossing trees shines down a star quietly bright.
• 1:22:52
  Speaker 3: This wild, tumultuous joy quickens nor dims its splendor. And
• 1:22:57
  Speaker 3: my mind, O star is filled with your white light
• 1:23:01
  Speaker 3: from afar, So suffer me this one night to enjoy
• 1:23:05
  Speaker 3: the freedom of the onward sweeping wind. End of poem.
• 1:23:10
  Speaker 3: This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:23:19
  Speaker 5: The Fruit Garden Path by Amy Lowell read for Librivax
• 1:23:24
  Speaker 5: dot org by Anusha Ayer. The path runs straight between
• 1:23:30
  Speaker 5: the flowering rows, a moonlit path hemmed in by beds
• 1:23:36
  Speaker 5: of bloom, where flocks and marigoes dispute for room with
• 1:23:43
  Speaker 5: tall red dahlias, and the briar rose tis reckless prodigality
• 1:23:49
  Speaker 5: which throws into the night, These wharfs of rich perfume,
• 1:23:54
  Speaker 5: which sweep across the garden like a plume over the trees,
• 1:23:59
  Speaker 5: A single bright star glows dear garden of my childhood.
• 1:24:06
  Speaker 5: Here my years have run away like little grains of sand.
• 1:24:11
  Speaker 5: The moments of my life, its hopes and fears, have
• 1:24:16
  Speaker 5: all found utterance here where now I stand. My eyes
• 1:24:21
  Speaker 5: ache with the weight of unshed tears. You are my home.
• 1:24:27
  Speaker 5: Do you not understand? End of poem. This recording is
• 1:24:34
  Speaker 5: in the public domain. Mirage by Amy Lowell, readfu Librivax
• 1:24:44
  Speaker 5: dot org by Anusha Ayir. How is it that being
• 1:24:49
  Speaker 5: gone you fill my days, and all the long nights
• 1:24:53
  Speaker 5: are made glad by thee No loneliness is this nor misery,
• 1:24:59
  Speaker 5: but great content that these should be the ways whereby
• 1:25:04
  Speaker 5: the fancy dreaming as she strays, makes bright and present
• 1:25:10
  Speaker 5: what she would would be. And who shall say if
• 1:25:15
  Speaker 5: the reality is not with dreams so pregnant for delays
• 1:25:21
  Speaker 5: and hindrances may bar the wished for end A thousand
• 1:25:27
  Speaker 5: misconceptions may prevent our souls from coming near enough to blend.
• 1:25:33
  Speaker 5: Let me but think we have the same intent, that
• 1:25:38
  Speaker 5: each one needs to call the other friend.
• 1:25:42
  Speaker 2: It may be vain.
• 1:25:43
  Speaker 5: Illusion, I am content end off poem. This recording is
• 1:25:50
  Speaker 5: in the public domain.
• 1:25:59
  Speaker 6: To a Friend by Amy Lowell, read for LibriVox dot
• 1:26:03
  Speaker 6: Org by Ian King. I ask but one thing of you,
• 1:26:09
  Speaker 6: only one that always you will be my dream of you,
• 1:26:14
  Speaker 6: that never shall I wake to find untrue. All this
• 1:26:17
  Speaker 6: I have believed and rested on for ever vanished like
• 1:26:22
  Speaker 6: a vision gone out into the night. Alas, how few
• 1:26:26
  Speaker 6: there are who strike in us accord we knew existed,
• 1:26:30
  Speaker 6: but so seldom heard its tone. We tremble at the
• 1:26:33
  Speaker 6: half forgotten sound. The world is full of rude awakenings
• 1:26:39
  Speaker 6: and heaven born castles shattered to the ground. Yet still
• 1:26:44
  Speaker 6: our human longing, vainly clings to a belief in beauty
• 1:26:48
  Speaker 6: through all wrongs. Oh stay your hand and leave my
• 1:26:53
  Speaker 6: heart its songs. End of poem. This recording is in
• 1:26:58
  Speaker 6: the public domain.
• 1:27:05
  Speaker 5: A Fixed Idea by Amy Lowell read for Librivax dot
• 1:27:09
  Speaker 5: org by Anusha Ayir. What torture lurks within a single
• 1:27:15
  Speaker 5: thought when grown too constant, And however kind, however welcomes
• 1:27:21
  Speaker 5: still the weary mind aches with its presence, dull remembrance,
• 1:27:28
  Speaker 5: tort remembers on unceasingly unsought. The old delight is with us,
• 1:27:36
  Speaker 5: but to find that all recurring joy is pain refined,
• 1:27:41
  Speaker 5: become a habit, and we struggle caught. You lie upon
• 1:27:47
  Speaker 5: my heart as on a nest, folded in peace, For
• 1:27:51
  Speaker 5: you can never know how crushed I am with having
• 1:27:54
  Speaker 5: you a rest heavy upon my life. I love you,
• 1:27:59
  Speaker 5: so you bind my freedom from its rightful guest in mercy,
• 1:28:06
  Speaker 5: left your drooping wings and gold. End of poem. This
• 1:28:12
  Speaker 5: recording is in the public domain.
• 1:28:21
  Speaker 6: Dreams by Amy Lowell readfilibrivox dot org by Ian King.
• 1:28:29
  Speaker 6: I do not care to talk to you, although your
• 1:28:32
  Speaker 6: speech evokes a thousand sympathies, and all my being silent
• 1:28:36
  Speaker 6: harmonies wake trembling into music. When you go. It is
• 1:28:42
  Speaker 6: as if some sudden, dreadful blow had severed all the
• 1:28:45
  Speaker 6: strings with savage ease. No, do not talk, but let
• 1:28:51
  Speaker 6: us rather seize this intimate gift of silence, which we
• 1:28:54
  Speaker 6: know others may guess your thoughts from what you say AsLMS.
• 1:29:00
  Speaker 6: A guest from clouds where darkness broods to me, the
• 1:29:04
  Speaker 6: very essence of the day reveals it inner purpose and
• 1:29:08
  Speaker 6: its moods, as poplace, feel the rain, and then straightway
• 1:29:14
  Speaker 6: reverse their leaves and shimmer through the woods. End of poem.
• 1:29:21
  Speaker 6: This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:29:29
  Speaker 2: Frankencens and Mehr by Amy Lowell read for librivoks dot
• 1:29:34
  Speaker 2: Org by Rosslyn Carlile. My heart is tuned to sorrow,
• 1:29:41
  Speaker 2: and the strings vibrate most readily to minor chords, searching
• 1:29:48
  Speaker 2: and sad. My mind is stuffed with words which voice
• 1:29:53
  Speaker 2: the passion and the ache of things. Illusions beating with
• 1:29:57
  Speaker 2: their baffled wings against the wall of circumstance, and hordes
• 1:30:02
  Speaker 2: of torn desires, broken joys, records of all a bruised
• 1:30:09
  Speaker 2: life's maimed imaginings. Now you are come, You tremble like
• 1:30:15
  Speaker 2: a star poised where behind earth's rim. The sun has set.
• 1:30:21
  Speaker 2: Your voice is sung across my heart, but numb and mute,
• 1:30:26
  Speaker 2: I have no tones to answer. Far within, I kneel
• 1:30:30
  Speaker 2: before you, speechless yet and life ablaze with beauty. I
• 1:30:35
  Speaker 2: am dumb. End of poem. This recording is in the
• 1:30:40
  Speaker 2: public domain. From One Who Stays by Amy Lowell read
• 1:30:51
  Speaker 2: for librovoks dot Org by Rustlyn Carlyle. How empty seems
• 1:30:57
  Speaker 2: the town now you are gone, wilderness of sad streets,
• 1:31:02
  Speaker 2: where gaunt walls hide nothing to desire. Sunshine falls eerie,
• 1:31:08
  Speaker 2: distorted as it long had shown on white dead faces,
• 1:31:14
  Speaker 2: tombed in halls of stone. The wear of motors, stricken
• 1:31:18
  Speaker 2: through with calls of playing boys, floats up at intervals,
• 1:31:23
  Speaker 2: But all these noises blur to one long moon. What
• 1:31:29
  Speaker 2: quest is worth pursuing? And how strange that other men
• 1:31:33
  Speaker 2: still go accustomed ways? I hate their interest in the
• 1:31:37
  Speaker 2: things they do. A specter hoarde, repeating without change an
• 1:31:41
  Speaker 2: old routine alone, I know the days are stillborn, and
• 1:31:47
  Speaker 2: the world stopped lacking you. End of poem. This recording
• 1:31:54
  Speaker 2: is in the public domain.
• 1:32:01
  Speaker 8: Guepuscular Dumato by Amy Lowell, read for librevox dot Org
• 1:32:08
  Speaker 8: by Karn Sampson. All night I wrestled with a memory
• 1:32:13
  Speaker 8: which knocked insurgent at the gates of thought. The crumbled
• 1:32:18
  Speaker 8: wreck of years behind has wrought its disillusion. Now I
• 1:32:23
  Speaker 8: only cry for peace, for power, to forget the lie
• 1:32:27
  Speaker 8: which hope too long has whispered. So I sought the
• 1:32:32
  Speaker 8: sleep which would not come. And night was fraught with
• 1:32:36
  Speaker 8: old emotions. Weeping silently, I heard your voice again and
• 1:32:42
  Speaker 8: knew the things which you had promised proved an empty vaunt.
• 1:32:46
  Speaker 8: I felt your clinging hands, while knight's broad wings cherished
• 1:32:51
  Speaker 8: our love in darkness from the lawn a sudden, quivering
• 1:32:55
  Speaker 8: bird note like a taunt. My arms held nothing but
• 1:33:00
  Speaker 8: the empty dawn. End of poem. This recording is in
• 1:33:06
  Speaker 8: the public domain. Aftermath by Amy Lowell, read for librovox
• 1:33:17
  Speaker 8: dot Org by Krin Sampson. I learnt to write to
• 1:33:23
  Speaker 8: you in happier days, and every letter was a piece
• 1:33:26
  Speaker 8: I chipped from off my heart, a fragment newly clipped
• 1:33:31
  Speaker 8: from the mosaic of life, its blues and grays, its
• 1:33:35
  Speaker 8: throbbing reds. I gave to earn your praise, to make
• 1:33:40
  Speaker 8: a pavement for your feet. I stripped to my soul
• 1:33:43
  Speaker 8: for you to walk upon, and slipped beneath your steps,
• 1:33:47
  Speaker 8: to soften all your ways. But now my letters are
• 1:33:51
  Speaker 8: like blossoms pale, we strew upon a grave with hopeless tears.
• 1:33:56
  Speaker 8: I ask no recompense. I shall not fail of you,
• 1:34:00
  Speaker 8: do not hate. The long sad years still pass and
• 1:34:04
  Speaker 8: still as scatterflower's frail and whisper words of love which
• 1:34:09
  Speaker 8: no one he is. End of poem. This recording is
• 1:34:14
  Speaker 8: in the public domain.
• 1:34:22
  Speaker 2: The end by Amy Lowell, read for LibriVox dot Org
• 1:34:26
  Speaker 2: by Rosslyn Carlile. Throughout the echoing chambers of my brain,
• 1:34:34
  Speaker 2: I hear your words in mournful cadence, tall, like some
• 1:34:39
  Speaker 2: slow passing bell, which warns the soul of sundering darkness, unrelenting,
• 1:34:47
  Speaker 2: vain to batter down, resistance fall again, stroke after stroke,
• 1:34:54
  Speaker 2: insistent diastole, the bitter blows of truth, until the whole
• 1:35:00
  Speaker 2: is hammered into fact, made strangely plain. Where shall I
• 1:35:04
  Speaker 2: look for comfort?
• 1:35:05
  Speaker 1: Not to you?
• 1:35:07
  Speaker 2: Our worlds are drawn apart, our spirits suns divided, and
• 1:35:12
  Speaker 2: the light of mine burnt dem Now in the haunted twilight,
• 1:35:17
  Speaker 2: I must do your well. I grasp the cup which
• 1:35:21
  Speaker 2: overruns and with my trembling lips I touch the rem
• 1:35:28
  Speaker 2: end of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:35:37
  Speaker 2: The Starling by Amy Lowell read for librivoks dot Org
• 1:35:41
  Speaker 2: by Rosslyn Carlyle. I can't get out, said the Starling
• 1:35:48
  Speaker 2: from Stern's sentimental Journey Forever. The impenetrable wall of self
• 1:35:56
  Speaker 2: confines my poor, rebellious soul. I never see the towering
• 1:36:00
  Speaker 2: white clouds roll before a sturdy wind, save through the
• 1:36:05
  Speaker 2: small barred window of my jail. I live a thrall
• 1:36:10
  Speaker 2: with all my outer life, a clipped square hole, rectangular,
• 1:36:17
  Speaker 2: a fraction of a scroll, unwound and winding like a
• 1:36:21
  Speaker 2: worsted ball. My thoughts are grown, uneager and oppressed through
• 1:36:27
  Speaker 2: being always mine. My fancy's wings are molded and the
• 1:36:32
  Speaker 2: feathers blown away. I weary for desires, never guessed, for
• 1:36:38
  Speaker 2: alien passions, strange imaginings, to be some other person for
• 1:36:44
  Speaker 2: a day. End of poem. This recording is in the
• 1:36:48
  Speaker 2: public domain. Market Day by Amy Lowell read for librivoks
• 1:36:58
  Speaker 2: dot Org by Slynn Carlisle. White glittering sunlight fills the
• 1:37:05
  Speaker 2: market square, spotted and spragued with shadows. Double rows of
• 1:37:11
  Speaker 2: bartering booths spread out their tempting shows of globed and
• 1:37:16
  Speaker 2: golden fruit. The morning air smells sweet with ripeness. On
• 1:37:20
  Speaker 2: the pavement, there a wicker basket gapes and overflows, spelling
• 1:37:26
  Speaker 2: out cool blue plums. The market glows and flaunts and
• 1:37:30
  Speaker 2: clatters in its busy care. A stately minister at the
• 1:37:34
  Speaker 2: northern side left its twin spires to the distant sky, pinnacled,
• 1:37:40
  Speaker 2: carved and buttressed through the wide arched doorways, peels and organs,
• 1:37:45
  Speaker 2: suddenly crashing triumphant in its pregnant tide, quenching the square
• 1:37:51
  Speaker 2: in vibrant harmony. End of poem. This recording is in
• 1:37:57
  Speaker 2: the public domain.
• 1:38:06
  Speaker 8: Epitaph in a churchyard in Charleston, South Carolina, by Amy Lowell,
• 1:38:11
  Speaker 8: read for LibriVox dot org by Carinn Sampson. George Augustus Klough,
• 1:38:16
  Speaker 8: a native of Liverpool, died suddenly of stranger's fever November fifth,
• 1:38:21
  Speaker 8: eighteen forty three, aged twenty two. He died of Stranger's
• 1:38:26
  Speaker 8: fever when his youth had scarcely melted into manhood. So
• 1:38:31
  Speaker 8: the chiseled legend runs a brother's woe laid bare for epitaph,
• 1:38:36
  Speaker 8: The savage ruth of a sunny, bright, but alien land,
• 1:38:40
  Speaker 8: uncouth with cruel caressing, delt a mortal blow. And by
• 1:38:45
  Speaker 8: this summer sea, where flowers grow in tropic splendor. Witnessed
• 1:38:50
  Speaker 8: to the truth of ineradicable race, he lies the law
• 1:38:55
  Speaker 8: of duty, urged that he should roam, should sail from
• 1:38:58
  Speaker 8: fog and chilly air, disguise clear with deceitful welcome. He
• 1:39:04
  Speaker 8: had come with proud resolve, but still his lonely eyes
• 1:39:08
  Speaker 8: ached with fatigue of never seeing harm. End of poem.
• 1:39:15
  Speaker 8: This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:39:24
  Speaker 2: Francis the Second King of Naples by Amy Lowell, read
• 1:39:28
  Speaker 2: for Librovokus dot Org by Rosslyn Carlile. This was written
• 1:39:33
  Speaker 2: after reading Trevellians, Garibaldi and the Making of Italy. Poor
• 1:39:41
  Speaker 2: foolish monarch, vacillating, vain, decaying victim of a race of kings.
• 1:39:48
  Speaker 2: Swift destiny shook out her purple wings and caught him
• 1:39:52
  Speaker 2: in their shadow. Not again could furt of plotting smear
• 1:39:57
  Speaker 2: another stain across his tarnished honor. Smolderings of sacrificial fires
• 1:40:04
  Speaker 2: burst their rings and blotted out in smoke his lost domain,
• 1:40:09
  Speaker 2: bereft of courtiers, only with his queen from empty palace
• 1:40:13
  Speaker 2: down to empty key. No challenge screamed from hostile carabine,
• 1:40:18
  Speaker 2: A single vessel, weighted shadowy all night, she plowed her
• 1:40:23
  Speaker 2: solitary way beneath the stars and threw a tranquil sea.
• 1:40:30
  Speaker 2: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:40:38
  Speaker 6: To John Keats by Amy Lowell readflibrivox dot org by
• 1:40:43
  Speaker 6: Iain King, great master, boyish, sympathetic man whose orbed and
• 1:40:50
  Speaker 6: ripened genius lightly hung from life's slim twisted tendril, and
• 1:40:57
  Speaker 6: there swung in crimson, spheed, camp sleekness, guardian of crystal portals,
• 1:41:04
  Speaker 6: through whose openings fan the spiced winds which blew when
• 1:41:09
  Speaker 6: Earth was young, scattering wreaths of stars, as Jove once
• 1:41:14
  Speaker 6: flung a golden shower from heights. Serailean crumbled before thy majesty.
• 1:41:21
  Speaker 6: We bow forget thy impurpled state, thy panoply of greatness,
• 1:41:27
  Speaker 6: and be merciful and near A youth who trudged the
• 1:41:31
  Speaker 6: high road we tread now, singing the miles behind him.
• 1:41:36
  Speaker 6: So may we faint throbbings of thy music over here.
• 1:41:42
  Speaker 6: End of poem. That this recording is in the public domain.
• 1:41:52
  Speaker 8: The Boston Athenaeum by Amy Lowell read for Librevox dot
• 1:41:56
  Speaker 8: Org by Karin Sampson and Athenaeum thour dear and well
• 1:42:03
  Speaker 8: loved haunt of happy hours. How often in some distant
• 1:42:08
  Speaker 8: gallery gained by a little painful spiral, stare far from
• 1:42:14
  Speaker 8: the halls and corridors where throng the crowds of casual readers.
• 1:42:18
  Speaker 8: Have I passed long, peaceful hours seated on the floor
• 1:42:23
  Speaker 8: of some retired nook, all lined with books, where reverie
• 1:42:27
  Speaker 8: and quiet reign supreme above below on every side, high
• 1:42:33
  Speaker 8: shelled from careless grasp of transient interest stand books, We
• 1:42:38
  Speaker 8: can but dimly see their charm, much greater that their
• 1:42:42
  Speaker 8: titles are on red, while on a level with the
• 1:42:45
  Speaker 8: dusty floor, others arranged in orderly confusion, and we must
• 1:42:50
  Speaker 8: stoop in painful posture while we read their names and
• 1:42:53
  Speaker 8: learn their histories. The little gallery winds round about the
• 1:42:59
  Speaker 8: middle of a most secluded room, midway between the ceiling
• 1:43:03
  Speaker 8: and the floor. A type of those high thoughts which,
• 1:43:08
  Speaker 8: while we read, hover between the earth and furthest heaven
• 1:43:12
  Speaker 8: as fancy wills, leaving the printed page for books, but
• 1:43:18
  Speaker 8: give the theme our hearts the rest, enriching simple words
• 1:43:22
  Speaker 8: with unguessed harmony and overtones of thoughts we only know.
• 1:43:29
  Speaker 8: And as we sit long hours quietly reading at times
• 1:43:33
  Speaker 8: and at times simply dreaming, the very room itself becomes
• 1:43:37
  Speaker 8: a friend, the confidante of intimate hopes and fears, a
• 1:43:42
  Speaker 8: place where our engendered, pleasant thoughts and possibilities before our
• 1:43:47
  Speaker 8: guest come to fruition born of sympathy. And as in
• 1:43:53
  Speaker 8: some gay gardens stretched upon a genial southern slope, warmed
• 1:43:57
  Speaker 8: by the sun, the flowers give their fragrance joyously to
• 1:44:02
  Speaker 8: the caressing touch of the hot noon. So books give
• 1:44:06
  Speaker 8: up the all of what they mean only in a
• 1:44:09
  Speaker 8: congenial atmosphere, only when touched by reverent hands and read
• 1:44:14
  Speaker 8: by those who love and feel as well as think.
• 1:44:18
  Speaker 8: For books are more than books. They are the life,
• 1:44:21
  Speaker 8: the very heart and core of ages past, the reason
• 1:44:26
  Speaker 8: why men lived and worked and died, the essence and
• 1:44:29
  Speaker 8: quintessence of their lives. And we may know them better
• 1:44:34
  Speaker 8: and divine the inner motives. Whence their actions sprang far
• 1:44:39
  Speaker 8: better than the men who only knew their bodily presence,
• 1:44:42
  Speaker 8: the soul forever hid from those with no ability to see.
• 1:44:48
  Speaker 8: They wait here quietly for us to come and find
• 1:44:51
  Speaker 8: them out and know them. For our friends, these men
• 1:44:55
  Speaker 8: who toiled and wrote, only for this to leave behind
• 1:44:59
  Speaker 8: such a modicum of truth as each perceived, and each
• 1:45:04
  Speaker 8: alone could tell, silently, waiting that from time to time
• 1:45:09
  Speaker 8: it may be given them to illuminate dull daily facts
• 1:45:13
  Speaker 8: with pristine radiance for some long waited for affinity, who
• 1:45:18
  Speaker 8: lingers yet in the deep womb of time. The shifting
• 1:45:23
  Speaker 8: sun pierces the young green leaves of elm trees newly
• 1:45:28
  Speaker 8: coming into bud, and splashes on the floor and on
• 1:45:32
  Speaker 8: the books. Through old, high rounded windows dim with age,
• 1:45:37
  Speaker 8: the noisy city sounds of modern life floats softened to
• 1:45:42
  Speaker 8: us across the old graveyard. The room is filled with
• 1:45:46
  Speaker 8: a warm, mellow light. No garish colours jar on our content.
• 1:45:51
  Speaker 8: The books upon the shelves are old and worn, twas
• 1:45:55
  Speaker 8: no belated effort nor attempt to keep a breast of
• 1:46:00
  Speaker 8: old as well as new, that placed them here, tricked
• 1:46:03
  Speaker 8: in a modern guise, easily got and held in light esteem.
• 1:46:09
  Speaker 8: Our father's fathers slowly and carefully gathered them one by
• 1:46:14
  Speaker 8: one when they were new, and a delighted world received
• 1:46:18
  Speaker 8: their thoughts hungrily, While we but love the more because
• 1:46:23
  Speaker 8: they are so old and grown so dear. The backs
• 1:46:28
  Speaker 8: of tarnished gold, the faded boards, the slightly yellowing page,
• 1:46:32
  Speaker 8: the strange old type, all speak the fashion of another age.
• 1:46:38
  Speaker 8: The thoughts peculiar to the man who wrote a raid
• 1:46:41
  Speaker 8: in garb, peculiar to the time, as though the idiom
• 1:46:46
  Speaker 8: of a man were caught imprisoned in the idiom of
• 1:46:49
  Speaker 8: a race. And nothing truly he had a link that
• 1:46:53
  Speaker 8: binds all ages to their own inheritance, and stretching backward,
• 1:46:58
  Speaker 8: dim and dimmer, still is lost in a remote antiquity.
• 1:47:03
  Speaker 8: Grapes do not come of thorns, nor figs of thistles.
• 1:47:07
  Speaker 8: And even a great poet's divinest thoughts is colored by
• 1:47:11
  Speaker 8: the world. He knows and sees, the little intimate things
• 1:47:15
  Speaker 8: of every day, the trivial nothings that we think not of.
• 1:47:20
  Speaker 8: These go to make a part of each man's life
• 1:47:23
  Speaker 8: as much a part as do the larger thoughts. He
• 1:47:26
  Speaker 8: takes account of, nay, the little things of daily life.
• 1:47:31
  Speaker 8: It is which mold and shape and make him apt
• 1:47:34
  Speaker 8: for noble deeds and true And as we read some
• 1:47:38
  Speaker 8: much loved masterpiece, read it as long ago the author
• 1:47:42
  Speaker 8: read with eyes that brimmed with tears as he saw
• 1:47:47
  Speaker 8: the message he believed in stamped in type inviolable. For
• 1:47:52
  Speaker 8: the slow coming years. We know a certain subtle sympathy.
• 1:47:56
  Speaker 8: We seem to clasp his hand across the past. His
• 1:48:00
  Speaker 8: words become related to the time. He is at one
• 1:48:04
  Speaker 8: with his own glorious creed, and all that in his
• 1:48:08
  Speaker 8: world was dead and done. The long, still fruitful hours
• 1:48:13
  Speaker 8: slip away, shedding their influences as they pass. We know
• 1:48:17
  Speaker 8: ourselves the richer to have sat upon this dusty floor
• 1:48:22
  Speaker 8: and dreamed our dreams. No other place to us were
• 1:48:26
  Speaker 8: quite the same, no other dreams so potent in their charm.
• 1:48:30
  Speaker 8: For this is ours. Every twist and turn of every
• 1:48:35
  Speaker 8: narrow stair is known and loved. Each nook and cranny
• 1:48:39
  Speaker 8: is our very own. The dear old, sleepy place is
• 1:48:43
  Speaker 8: full of spells for us. By right of long inheritance.
• 1:48:47
  Speaker 8: The building simply bodies forth a thought peculiarly inherent to
• 1:48:53
  Speaker 8: the race, And we descendants of that elder time, have
• 1:48:58
  Speaker 8: learnt to love the very form in which the thought
• 1:49:01
  Speaker 8: has been embodied. To our years, and here we feel
• 1:49:05
  Speaker 8: that we are not alone. We too are one with
• 1:49:08
  Speaker 8: our own richest past and here that veiled but ever
• 1:49:13
  Speaker 8: smoldering fire of race, which rarely seen yet never dies,
• 1:49:18
  Speaker 8: springs up afresh and warms us with its heat. And
• 1:49:22
  Speaker 8: must they take away this treasure house to us, so
• 1:49:26
  Speaker 8: full of thoughts and memories, to all the world beside
• 1:49:29
  Speaker 8: a dismal place lacking in all This modern age requires
• 1:49:34
  Speaker 8: to tempt the long, the unfamiliar paths and leafy lanes
• 1:49:38
  Speaker 8: of old time literatures. It takes some time for moss
• 1:49:42
  Speaker 8: and vines to grow, and warmly covered gaunt and chill
• 1:49:46
  Speaker 8: stone walls of stately buildings from the cold north wind.
• 1:49:50
  Speaker 8: The lach of affection takes us long or longer ere
• 1:49:54
  Speaker 8: it lovingly unfolds a place which, since without it weer bereft,
• 1:49:58
  Speaker 8: all stripped, and bea shorn of its cheapest grace, for
• 1:50:03
  Speaker 8: what to us were hauls and corridors, however large and fitting.
• 1:50:08
  Speaker 8: If we part with this which is our birthright, if
• 1:50:11
  Speaker 8: we lose a sentiment profound, unsoundable, which times slow ripening
• 1:50:17
  Speaker 8: alone can make, and man's blind foolishness so quickly mar
• 1:50:25
  Speaker 8: end of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:50:35
  Speaker 2: Sea Shall by Emil Lowell read for librivokx dot Org
• 1:50:39
  Speaker 2: by Roslyn Carlisle. Sea shall Sea shall sing me a song,
• 1:50:45
  Speaker 2: oh please, A song of sps and sailormen and parrots
• 1:50:49
  Speaker 2: and tropical trees, of islands lost in the Spanish main,
• 1:50:54
  Speaker 2: which no man ever may find again, Of fishes and
• 1:50:58
  Speaker 2: corals under the waves, and sea horses stabled in great
• 1:51:02
  Speaker 2: green caves. Sea shall seashell sing of the things you
• 1:51:07
  Speaker 2: know so well. End of poem. This recording is in
• 1:51:11
  Speaker 2: the public domain. Fringed Gentians by Amy Lowell read for
• 1:51:23
  Speaker 2: librovox dot Org by Rosslyn Carlyle. Near where I live,
• 1:51:28
  Speaker 2: there is a lake as blue as blue can be.
• 1:51:32
  Speaker 2: Winds make it dance as they go blowing by. I
• 1:51:36
  Speaker 2: think it curtsies to the sky. It's just a lake
• 1:51:40
  Speaker 2: of lovely flowers. And my Mamma says they are ours.
• 1:51:45
  Speaker 2: But they are not like those we grow to be
• 1:51:47
  Speaker 2: our very own. You know, we have a splendid garden.
• 1:51:52
  Speaker 2: There are lots of flowers everywhere, roses and pinks, and
• 1:51:57
  Speaker 2: four o'clocks, and hollyhocks and evening stocks. Mama lets us
• 1:52:02
  Speaker 2: pick them. But never must we pick any Gentians ever,
• 1:52:07
  Speaker 2: for if we carried them away, they die of homesickness.
• 1:52:11
  Speaker 1: That day.
• 1:52:14
  Speaker 2: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:52:22
  Speaker 3: The painted Ceiling by Amy Lowell Readfruit LibriVox dot Org
• 1:52:27
  Speaker 3: by Jennifer Dolman. My Grandpapa lives in a wonderful house
• 1:52:32
  Speaker 3: with a great many windows and doors. There are stairs
• 1:52:35
  Speaker 3: that go up and stairs that go down in such
• 1:52:37
  Speaker 3: beautiful slippery floors. But of all the rooms, even mothers
• 1:52:41
  Speaker 3: and mine, and the bookroom and parlor and all, I
• 1:52:45
  Speaker 3: like the green dining room so much the best, because
• 1:52:47
  Speaker 3: of its ceiling and wall right over your head, as
• 1:52:50
  Speaker 3: a funny round hole with apples and pears falling through.
• 1:52:54
  Speaker 3: There's a big bunch of grapes, all purple and sweet,
• 1:52:56
  Speaker 3: and melons and pineapples too. They tumble and humble, but
• 1:53:00
  Speaker 3: never come down. Though I've stood underneath a long while
• 1:53:04
  Speaker 3: with my mouth open wide, for I always have hoped
• 1:53:07
  Speaker 3: just a cherry would drop from the pile. No matter
• 1:53:10
  Speaker 3: how early I run there to look, it has always
• 1:53:13
  Speaker 3: begun to fall through. And one night, when at bedtime
• 1:53:16
  Speaker 3: I crept in to sea, it was falling by candle
• 1:53:19
  Speaker 3: light too. I am sure they are magical fruits, and
• 1:53:23
  Speaker 3: each one makes you hear things, or see things, or
• 1:53:25
  Speaker 3: go forever invisible. But it's no use, and of course
• 1:53:29
  Speaker 3: I shall just never know, for the latter's too heavy
• 1:53:32
  Speaker 3: to lift, and the chairs are not nearly so tall
• 1:53:35
  Speaker 3: as I need. I've given up hope, and I feel
• 1:53:38
  Speaker 3: I shall die without having accomplished the deed. It's a
• 1:53:41
  Speaker 3: little bit sad when you seem very near to adventures
• 1:53:44
  Speaker 3: and things of that sort which nearly began, and then don't,
• 1:53:49
  Speaker 3: and you know it's only because you were short. End
• 1:53:54
  Speaker 3: of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:54:05
  Speaker 2: The Crescent Moon by Amy Lowell read for librovoks dot
• 1:54:09
  Speaker 2: Org by Rosslyn Carlyle. Slipping softly through the sky, little
• 1:54:16
  Speaker 2: horned happy moon, Can you hear me? Up so high?
• 1:54:19
  Speaker 2: Will you come down soon on my nursery window sill?
• 1:54:24
  Speaker 2: Will you stay your steady flight? And then float away
• 1:54:27
  Speaker 2: with me through the summer night, brushing over tops of trees,
• 1:54:32
  Speaker 2: playing hide and seek with stars peeping up through shiny
• 1:54:36
  Speaker 2: clouds at Jupiter or Mars. I shall fill my lap
• 1:54:40
  Speaker 2: with roses gathered in the milky way, or to carry
• 1:54:43
  Speaker 2: home to mother. Oh what well she say, little rocking
• 1:54:48
  Speaker 2: sailing moon, Do you hear me shout ahoy, just a
• 1:54:52
  Speaker 2: little nearer moon, to please a little boy. End of poem.
• 1:54:57
  Speaker 2: This recording is in the public domain. Climbing by Amy
• 1:55:07
  Speaker 2: Lowell read forlibrivokx dot org by Russlyn Carlyle. High up
• 1:55:13
  Speaker 2: in the apple tree, climbing, I go with the sky
• 1:55:17
  Speaker 2: above me, the earth below. Each branch is the step
• 1:55:21
  Speaker 2: of a wonderful stair, which leads to the town I
• 1:55:25
  Speaker 2: see shining up there, climbing, climbing higher and higher. The
• 1:55:31
  Speaker 2: branch is blue, and I see a spire, the gleam
• 1:55:35
  Speaker 2: of a turret, the glint of a dome, all sparkling
• 1:55:38
  Speaker 2: and bright like white sea foam, on and on from
• 1:55:43
  Speaker 2: bout above. The leaves are thick, but I push my
• 1:55:46
  Speaker 2: way through. Before I've always had to stop. But today
• 1:55:50
  Speaker 2: I'm sure I shall reach the top. Today, to the
• 1:55:55
  Speaker 2: end of the marvelous stair, where those glittering pinnacles flash
• 1:55:59
  Speaker 2: in the air. You're climbing, climbing higher. I go with
• 1:56:04
  Speaker 2: the sky close above me, the earth far below. End
• 1:56:11
  Speaker 2: of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The
• 1:56:20
  Speaker 2: Trout by Amy Lewell read for librevoks dot org by
• 1:56:24
  Speaker 2: Rouslyn Carlisle. Naughty little speckled trout can't I coax you
• 1:56:31
  Speaker 2: to come out? Is it such great fun to play
• 1:56:35
  Speaker 2: in the water every day? Do you pull the naiads
• 1:56:39
  Speaker 2: here hiding in the lilies there? Do you hunt for
• 1:56:42
  Speaker 2: fishes eggs? Or watch tadpoles threw their legs? Do the
• 1:56:47
  Speaker 2: little trouts have school in some deep sunglinted pool, and
• 1:56:51
  Speaker 2: in recess play at tag round that bed of purple flag?
• 1:56:56
  Speaker 2: I have tried so hard to catch you ours hours,
• 1:57:00
  Speaker 2: I've sat to watch you, but you never well come out,
• 1:57:04
  Speaker 2: naughty little speckled trout. End of poem. This recording is
• 1:57:10
  Speaker 2: in the public domain. Wind by Amy Lowell, read for
• 1:57:20
  Speaker 2: librovox dot org by Rosslyn Carlyle. He shouts in the
• 1:57:26
  Speaker 2: sails of the ships at sea. He steals the down
• 1:57:30
  Speaker 2: from the honeybee. He makes the forest trees rustle and sing.
• 1:57:35
  Speaker 2: He twirls my kite till it breaks its string, laughing, dancing,
• 1:57:40
  Speaker 2: sunny wind, whistling, howling, rainy wind, north, south, east and west.
• 1:57:47
  Speaker 2: Each is the wind I like the best. He calls
• 1:57:51
  Speaker 2: up the fog and hides the hills. He whirls the
• 1:57:54
  Speaker 2: wings of the great wind mills. The weather cocks love
• 1:57:58
  Speaker 2: him and turn to discover his whereabout but he's gone.
• 1:58:01
  Speaker 2: The rover laughing, dancing, sunny wind, whistling, howling, rainy wind, north, south,
• 1:58:10
  Speaker 2: east and west. Each is the wind, I like the best.
• 1:58:15
  Speaker 2: The pine trees toss him their coons with glee. The
• 1:58:18
  Speaker 2: flowers bend low in courtesy. Each wave flings up a
• 1:58:23
  Speaker 2: shower of pearls. The flag in front of the school
• 1:58:26
  Speaker 2: on furls, laughing, dancing, sunny wind, whistling, howling, rainy wind, north, south,
• 1:58:36
  Speaker 2: east and west. Each is the wind, I like the best.
• 1:58:42
  Speaker 2: End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:58:51
  Speaker 2: The Pleiades by Amy Lowell read for Librovokes dot Org
• 1:58:57
  Speaker 2: by Rosslyn Carlisle. By day, you cannot see the sky,
• 1:59:03
  Speaker 2: for it is up so very high. You look and look,
• 1:59:07
  Speaker 2: but it's so blue that you can never see right through.
• 1:59:11
  Speaker 2: But when night comes it is quite plain, and all
• 1:59:14
  Speaker 2: the stars are there again. They seem just like old
• 1:59:18
  Speaker 2: friends to me. I've known them all my life. You see,
• 1:59:21
  Speaker 2: there is the Dipper first, and there is Cassiopia in
• 1:59:25
  Speaker 2: her chair, Orion's belt, the Milky Way, and lots I
• 1:59:30
  Speaker 2: know but cannot say. One group looks like a swarm
• 1:59:34
  Speaker 2: of bees. Papa says they're the Plaiades, But I think
• 1:59:39
  Speaker 2: they must be the toy of some nice little angel boy.
• 1:59:44
  Speaker 2: Perhaps is Jackstone's, which to day he has forgot to
• 1:59:47
  Speaker 2: put away, and left them lying on the sky where
• 1:59:51
  Speaker 2: he will find them by and by. I wish he'd
• 1:59:55
  Speaker 2: come and play with me. We'd have such fun, for
• 1:59:58
  Speaker 2: it would be a most unusual thing for boys to
• 2:00:02
  Speaker 2: feel that they had stars for toys. End of poem.
• 2:00:08
  Speaker 2: This recording is in the public domain. End of A
• 2:00:13
  Speaker 2: Dome of Many Colored Glass by Amy Lowell