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Beyond the Stars - Charles Hanson Towne · The Gods of Mars

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  Speaker 1: Section one of Beyond the Stars. This is a LibriVox recording.
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  Speaker 1: All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more
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  Speaker 1: information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot o work
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  Speaker 1: recording by Nemo. Beyond the Stars by Charles Hansome Town
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  Speaker 1: Beyond the Stars. Three days I heard them grieve when
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  Speaker 1: I lay dead. It was so strange to me that
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  Speaker 1: they should weep. Tall candles burned about me in the dark,
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  Speaker 1: and a white crucifix was on my breast, and a
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  Speaker 1: great silence filled the lonesome room. I heard one whisper, Lo,
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  Speaker 1: the dawn is breaking, and he has lost the wonder
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  Speaker 1: of the day. Another came, whom I had loved on earth,
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  Speaker 1: and kissed my brow and brushed my dampened hair softly.
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  Speaker 1: She spoke, Oh, that he should not see the april
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  Speaker 1: that his spirit bathed in. Birds are singing in the orchard,
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  Speaker 1: and the grass that soon shall cover him is growing green.
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  Speaker 1: The daisies whiten on the emerald hills, and the immortal
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  Speaker 1: magic that he loved wakens again, and he has fallen asleep.
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  Speaker 1: Another said, last night I saw the moon like a
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  Speaker 1: tremendous lantern shine in heaven, and I could only think
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  Speaker 1: of him, and sob for I remembered evenings wonderful when
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  Speaker 1: he was faint with life's sad loveliness, and watched the
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  Speaker 1: silver ribbons wandering far along the shore and out upon
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  Speaker 1: the sea. Oh, I remembered how he loved the world,
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  Speaker 1: the sighing ocean, and the flaming stars, the everlasting glamor
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  Speaker 1: God had given his tapestries that wrap the earth's wide room.
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  Speaker 1: I minded me of mornings filled with rain, when he
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  Speaker 1: would sit and listen to the sound as if it
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  Speaker 1: were lost to music from the spheres. He loved the
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  Speaker 1: crocus and the hawthorn hedge. He loved the shining gold
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  Speaker 1: of butter cups and the low droning of the drowsy
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  Speaker 1: bees that boomed across the meadows. He was glad at
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  Speaker 1: dawn or sundown, glad when autumn came with her worn
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  Speaker 1: livery and scarlet crown, and glad when winter rocked the
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  Speaker 1: earth to rest. Strange that he sleeps to day, when
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  Speaker 1: life is young and the wild banners of the spring
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  Speaker 1: are blowing with green inscriptions of the old delight. I
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  Speaker 1: heard them whisper in the quiet room. I longed to
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  Speaker 1: open then my sealid eyes and tell them of the
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  Speaker 1: glory that was mine. There was no darkness where my
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  Speaker 1: spirit flew. There was no night beyond the teeming world.
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  Speaker 1: There april was like winter. Where I roamed. Their flowers
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  Speaker 1: were like stones where now I fared earth stay. It
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  Speaker 1: was if I had not known what sunlight meant. Yea,
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  Speaker 1: even as they grieved for all that I had lost
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  Speaker 1: in their pale place, I swung beyond the borders of
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  Speaker 1: the sky and floated through the clouds, myself the air,
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  Speaker 1: myself the ether yet to matchless being whom God had
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  Speaker 1: snatched from penury and pain to draw across the barricades
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  Speaker 1: of heaven. I clomb beyond the sun, beyond the moon.
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  Speaker 1: In flight. On flight, I touched the highest star. I
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  Speaker 1: plunged to regions where the spring is borne myself. I
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  Speaker 1: asked not how the april wind myself the elements that
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  Speaker 1: are of God up flowery stairways of eternity. I whirled
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  Speaker 1: in wonder and untrampled joy, and adam yet a portion
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  Speaker 1: of his dream, his dream that knows no end. I
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  Speaker 1: was the rain. End of poem Peace by Charles Hanson
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  Speaker 1: town read for LibriVox dot org by Nema Peace. There
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  Speaker 1: is a rumor of eternal peace. The wonderful wild news
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  Speaker 1: sweeps through the world that never more loud drums shall
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  Speaker 1: beat alarms, where bugles blow the awful songs of war.
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  Speaker 1: There shall be silence where the sabers clashed, and utter calm,
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  Speaker 1: where once the cannon roared, the lord's green fields shall
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  Speaker 1: not be wet with blood, but white with innocent daisies
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  Speaker 1: in the spring, And where the crashing cavalry once plunged.
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  Speaker 1: Our hearts shall hear the lyrics of the birds when
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  Speaker 1: soft may mornings break and years to be. No more
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  Speaker 1: shall men of alien races march with fiery hearts and
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  Speaker 1: madness in their eyes, to crush their weaker brothers neath
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  Speaker 1: their heel. Nor women wait through aching days of grief,
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  Speaker 1: through pitiless hours of barren loneliness, for husbands and young
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  Speaker 1: sons to come back home. No more shall children stir
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  Speaker 1: in the long nights, dreaming of absent fathers. And no
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  Speaker 1: more shall faithful hounds whine at bleak thresholds, sick for
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  Speaker 1: one whose feet fled. When the trumpets called white peace,
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  Speaker 1: the whisper runs shall wrap the earth, and hushed be
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  Speaker 1: all the thundering cannonade. Wise men have dreamed this dream,
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  Speaker 1: and I have dared to dream it every hour of
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  Speaker 1: the years. When I have stood high in some starlit
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  Speaker 1: hill and watched the moon go her great silver way
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  Speaker 1: in silence that was deeper than the heavens, when I
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  Speaker 1: have seen the majesty of night, and in my contemplation
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  Speaker 1: learned that life was but a thread on times immortal loom,
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  Speaker 1: My life the least of all, and nations less than
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  Speaker 1: ribbons that are fashioned at the last in one divine, amazing,
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  Speaker 1: sumptuous plan. Than I have wondered at our boast and pride,
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  Speaker 1: and marveled at the shallowness of kings, the madness of
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  Speaker 1: all those who rise to lead their little countries, and
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  Speaker 1: tempetuous strife and break men's bodies and break women's hearts.
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  Speaker 1: Be swift, old, laggard years, to bring that day when
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  Speaker 1: right shall be the master of old might and love,
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  Speaker 1: where their soft processes shall see her hour triumphant and
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  Speaker 1: her legions large, tear down the bulwarks of incessant hate,
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  Speaker 1: and let pale pity rise from the dull dust. Her
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  Speaker 1: unfamiliar eyes too, flashing stars emerging from the shadows of
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  Speaker 1: the deep. But dream not. There shall be eternal peace.
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  Speaker 1: Though red battalions have been scattered far, and mighty armies loss.
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  Speaker 1: Like autumn winds, call in the iron navies of the
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  Speaker 1: world and sink them in the ocean's monstrous heart, sunder
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  Speaker 1: the bastions of the universe, the watchful forts that face
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  Speaker 1: the open sea. Still, we shall hear the rumors of
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  Speaker 1: great wars, and see the smoke of conflict. We shall
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  Speaker 1: know the old old battle of the rich and poor.
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  Speaker 1: The poor with watch fires in the engine room and
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  Speaker 1: regiments of children in the mills. They're rich, with beacon
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  Speaker 1: lights upon their hearths, and golden domes their perfumed tents
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  Speaker 1: at night. But when wild winter bears her icy sword,
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  Speaker 1: one army shall remember valley forge and tremble at the
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  Speaker 1: menace of the days. One army shall meet endless waterloose
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  Speaker 1: in the long line of years, that sing defeat, and
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  Speaker 1: in their tattered uniforms march on death. The last commander
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  Speaker 1: bids them halt, there shall be desolation in their eyes,
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  Speaker 1: and sorrow where they pitch their city camps, and rag
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  Speaker 1: shall be the emblem of their cause. Sad banners that
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  Speaker 1: reveal their very shame, dream not of pace eternal, till
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  Speaker 1: there comes some hour supreme when these two hosts shall
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  Speaker 1: meet in a great whirlwind of high brotherhood and the poem.
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  Speaker 1: This recording is in the public domain. Aira Perennius by
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  Speaker 1: Charles Hanson town read for LibriVox dot Org by Nima
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  Speaker 1: Aira Perennius one. I never learned the wonder of that lane,
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  Speaker 1: drenched with the summer rain, where through my boyish feet
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  Speaker 1: were wont to pass, until I left it for the
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  Speaker 1: passionate town, marble and iron and brass, filled with all
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  Speaker 1: laughter yeay, and filled alas with life's immortal pain. Then
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  Speaker 1: I beheld its magic. Then I knew how every rosebud grew,
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  Speaker 1: how every leaf rocked in the wind blown noon, far
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  Speaker 1: far away. I saw it beneath the moon on matchless
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  Speaker 1: nights of June, when the untarnished silver of the sky
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  Speaker 1: poured through the boughs, and two young lovers whispered deathless bows.
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  Speaker 1: And then I heard each song and raptured bird pipe
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  Speaker 1: his mad music. As we wandered by, I breathed the
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  Speaker 1: fright rants of the hawthorn flowers. I drank the joy
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  Speaker 1: that the black cup of night poured from my youth's delight,
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  Speaker 1: while round about me, from great steeples and towers, the
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  Speaker 1: punctual city clocks sounded the rushing hours. I shall go
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  Speaker 1: back someday to the enchantment of that wild wood way.
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  Speaker 1: I shall know once again the scent of musk in
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  Speaker 1: the cool summer dusk, and lay my head upon night's pillow,
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  Speaker 1: lay my fevered body where the blossoms sway against the
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  Speaker 1: velvet curtains of the dark. I shall see glow worms
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  Speaker 1: light their little spark in the hushed evening, hear the
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  Speaker 1: cricket's croon, and marvel at the moon. Yet will it
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  Speaker 1: all be lovely? When I take the ancient road for
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  Speaker 1: ancient love's white's sake? Can life repeat one word of
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  Speaker 1: her old story? Restore her tattered glory, revived the dead
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  Speaker 1: allure of her first days. I am enamored of the
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  Speaker 1: city's face and shameless. I am lost in her embrace.
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  Speaker 1: Her flashing fiery eyes sweep and control my piteous soul. Two,
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  Speaker 1: I shut the door on the world's bright face. I
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  Speaker 1: fled from the race, and I clung to the breast
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  Speaker 1: of the holy night, as if the dark were the
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  Speaker 1: bosom of God. I knelt me down on the clean,
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  Speaker 1: green sod, and I looked at the constellation's white as
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  Speaker 1: they swung above me on that blue height. I, who
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  Speaker 1: was lost and crushed and driven, reached till it seemed
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  Speaker 1: I must reach to heaven and snatch the stars from
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  Speaker 1: the hands of the Lord. I, who had lost myself
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  Speaker 1: in the maze of crowded ways and terrible days, had
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  Speaker 1: come to the hour that all men need, after the
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  Speaker 1: grime and dust and greed. Yet I said no word,
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  Speaker 1: for speech was vain, and I could not pray. I
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  Speaker 1: only knew I had found the way, and quiet, and
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  Speaker 1: worn and tired in the great night I lay three.
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  Speaker 1: I never knew the wonder of your eyes. Forgive me
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  Speaker 1: Angel in a woman's guise. Until I left you for
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  Speaker 1: the gleam and lure that never can endure. I left
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  Speaker 1: you for adventures strange and wild. A man who was
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  Speaker 1: a child, I followed gipsy patterns and trails, oceans and sorrows,
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  Speaker 1: joys and stinging gales. Lights in the distant veils, I
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  Speaker 1: followed gold and beauty in the bright moment's duty. I
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  Speaker 1: fared to cities of immortal fame, and drank the wine
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  Speaker 1: of shame. Hate o'er the world, and love o'er the
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  Speaker 1: world I found, and paths unknown of men. In tumult
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  Speaker 1: and in passion, I was drowned, in falseness, and in fury.
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  Speaker 1: I was bound yet always at the last, when the
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  Speaker 1: dread days were past, dreams of you came again. I,
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  Speaker 1: who had fled from your enduring heart to wander ways apart,
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  Speaker 1: knew the rich dream of you, ever ever unto the end.
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  Speaker 1: Why did I leave all that I loved the best
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  Speaker 1: for a sad quest? Why did the wind's voice on
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  Speaker 1: the open road sing till I stifled my warm abode?
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  Speaker 1: Why did the rivers call me, and the sea whisper
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  Speaker 1: of shadowy islands strangely blest? Why did I leave my
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  Speaker 1: fur and my friend for dim uncertainty? Why did I
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  Speaker 1: then forget a woman's face, a woman's eyes, and torture
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  Speaker 1: love with longing Love is wise, and we are fools
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  Speaker 1: who leave her sheltering place. Yet wonder beckoned me. I
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  Speaker 1: followed her with the first leaf's light stir four. I
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  Speaker 1: came to you from the stress of life, Sick with
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  Speaker 1: sorrow and doubt and strife, I dared to touch your
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  Speaker 1: garment's hem. The flooding tears I could not stem. You
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  Speaker 1: had remained like an absolute star. You had been firmer
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  Speaker 1: than the high hills. You had been constant, though I
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  Speaker 1: was gone, like the pale dawn. Your mouth was the
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  Speaker 1: rose that I had lost. Your face was the moon
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  Speaker 1: that I had missed. Your eyes were the steadfast planets
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  Speaker 1: of Heaven, given me once and once again given. Your
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  Speaker 1: hair was the cloud that God had tossed above the
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  Speaker 1: light of your shining face. Your breath was the perfume
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  Speaker 1: of old crushed roses that once I drank in youth's
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  Speaker 1: garden closes. Your voice was the bird that my soul
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  Speaker 1: had heard in the wild wood peace when it sang
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  Speaker 1: the word. You were the sure, unchanging sun lighting me
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  Speaker 1: back from the road I had run. I dared to
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  Speaker 1: return and breathe your name. I dared to show you
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  Speaker 1: my desperate shame. I dared to dream that the shattered story,
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  Speaker 1: the ancient good, the tattered glory, could be restored. But
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  Speaker 1: I dared not say the words that even a judas
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  Speaker 1: may Yet in that hour ye kissed my lips, and
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  Speaker 1: in the hushed darkness alone we lay, and a poem.
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  Speaker 1: This recording is in the public domain. A Ballad of
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  Speaker 1: Shame and Dread by Charles Hansom town read for LibriVox
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  Speaker 1: dot Org by Nema. A Ballad of Shame and Dread one.
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  Speaker 1: The rain rushed by in silver sheets. I crossed the
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  Speaker 1: empty thoroughfare with visions of my glowing fire. When I
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  Speaker 1: had climbed my lodging stair. The wind was spring like
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  Speaker 1: a ghost. The lights were chains lost in a blur,
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  Speaker 1: And as I hurried on, I heard a voice that said,
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  Speaker 1: good evening, sir. We men know well that ancient sound,
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  Speaker 1: a many affair and starlit night that strives to hail
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  Speaker 1: us tenderly to prospects of a sad delight. But on
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  Speaker 1: a storm swept night like this, how strange it was
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  Speaker 1: that there should be one of that mighty army out
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  Speaker 1: willing to sell herself to me. I turned astonished. In
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  Speaker 1: her eyes. I saw the old, old look a pane,
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  Speaker 1: poor painted girl whose face was wan and terrible in
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  Speaker 1: the falling rain. I read a message in her gaze
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  Speaker 1: that I had never read before. And as I paused,
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  Speaker 1: the tempest shook and rattled every neighboring door. It was
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  Speaker 1: not passion that evoked the sudden impulse in my heart.
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  Speaker 1: But swiftly from the windy street, I drew the lonely
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  Speaker 1: girl apart. I told her that her eyes looked tired.
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  Speaker 1: I never knew such eyes could be. She smiled, that
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  Speaker 1: tragic smile of hers, and like a hound went home
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  Speaker 1: with me. Two. The fire was ruddy on my hearth.
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  Speaker 1: It lit the corners of the room. I poured some
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  Speaker 1: sherry from a flask, and drew two great chairs from
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  Speaker 1: the gloom, And from my cupboard I brought forth a
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  Speaker 1: little supper, just a snack. Mysteriously, she smiled. When I
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  Speaker 1: pulled my best pipe down from its rack. Outside, the
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  Speaker 1: wind howled through the night in desperate delirium, and on
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  Speaker 1: my roof the rain beat fast, as if upon a
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  Speaker 1: muffled drum. Her cloak fell back, her hood fell too.
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  Speaker 1: I saw her wonderful gold hair, a cataract of glowing
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  Speaker 1: fire that shamed my hearth's reflected flare. It was her
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  Speaker 1: eyes that held me most. I never dreamed such eyes
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  Speaker 1: could be tired, as the dust of ancient queens, or
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  Speaker 1: ruined cities by the sea. How strangely, from their blue
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  Speaker 1: gray depths they quietly searched through my own. They held
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  Speaker 1: the knowledge of the years, how much, how much they
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  Speaker 1: must have known. She saw my rows of friendly books,
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  Speaker 1: my littered desk, pipes and cigars, Oh, homely things made
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  Speaker 1: lovelier now since they fell on you, two strange stars,
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  Speaker 1: but always back to me. They came, as if in wonder,
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  Speaker 1: half afraid. Yet even on her fragile hands, no kiss
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  Speaker 1: of mine had yet been laid. Three long long we
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  Speaker 1: sat without one word. Somewhere a clock boomed forth its chime.
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  Speaker 1: I did not count its distant strokes. I did not
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  Speaker 1: heed the hurrying time. At last she stirred. I saw
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  Speaker 1: her lips part for an instant, and then close, red
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  Speaker 1: lips whose crimson made them seem the painted wraiths of
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  Speaker 1: some dead rose. Again they parted, and she spoke. I
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  Speaker 1: never knew a man before who had not told me
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  Speaker 1: his desire the moment that I crossed his door. And
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  Speaker 1: yet her tears fell like the rain. You have not
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  Speaker 1: claimed your old grim right. Ah, can it be, you, guess,
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  Speaker 1: strange friend, the wonder you have wrought to night? I
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  Speaker 1: am as others of my kind. I fell the worn
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  Speaker 1: out tale of pain. You knew me for a harlot.
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  Speaker 1: Still you snatched me from the wind and rain. You
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  Speaker 1: gave me bread, you gave me wine, You let me
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  Speaker 1: sit before your fire, I whom you found upon the streets,
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  Speaker 1: a pallid daughter of desire. You pitied me, and that
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  Speaker 1: was all. Oh, would you guessed how my soul flew
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  Speaker 1: the instant that I read your heart and dared to
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  Speaker 1: dream of loving you. Yes, do not smile. I dared
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  Speaker 1: to dream the dream that every Harlot kills, lest it
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  Speaker 1: should lift her to the heights, lift her to the
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  Speaker 1: exalted hills. We cannot love save for an hour, then
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  Speaker 1: until less our loves we fare each night, each week,
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  Speaker 1: each month, each year, they dwindle, and we reap despair.
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  Speaker 1: That is our dread, that we may love. Our shame
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  Speaker 1: would drag a good man down if he should ever
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  Speaker 1: deign to stoop, to stoop and crown us with a crown.
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  Speaker 1: She rose and trembled toward the door. The fire was low,
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  Speaker 1: and in the gloom I only saw her eyes, strange
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  Speaker 1: stars that wonderfully lit the room. I followed her, Girl, girl,
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  Speaker 1: I cried, for there was madness in my soul. It
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  Speaker 1: was too late. She closed the door and down the
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  Speaker 1: darkened stairways stole four. The rain, rushed by the storm,
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  Speaker 1: still blew. The dawn was lost in a great blur.
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  Speaker 1: I threw my window wide alas there was no single
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  Speaker 1: trace of her. I never saw her face again, but
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  Speaker 1: her strange eyes have haunted me through many a troubled
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  Speaker 1: day and year. I never dreamed such eyes could be.
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  Speaker 1: And the poem This recording is in the public domain.
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  Speaker 1: Love Hath a Chalice by Charles Hanson Town read for
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  Speaker 1: LibriVox dot org by Nemo. Love hath the chalice. Love
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  Speaker 1: hath the chalice filled with glowing wine, wherefrom they drink,
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  Speaker 1: who have confessed Love's name, And having tasted of that
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  Speaker 1: draft divine the hearts go forth more holy than they came.
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  Speaker 1: I have seen one come softly from Love's priest with
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  Speaker 1: such exultance, leaving that high place, I dared not look,
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  Speaker 1: I being among the least save for one instant on
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  Speaker 1: his hallowed face. And a poem. This recording is in
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  Speaker 1: the public domain. The Sword by Charles Hanson Town read
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  Speaker 1: for LibriVox dot org by Nemo. The sword, the one
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  Speaker 1: I love the best hath stabbed me with a jest
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  Speaker 1: to her It was a word to me a shining sword,
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  Speaker 1: a sword that, having slain our love, falls not again
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  Speaker 1: back to its sheath. Foresee its bright blade rust in
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  Speaker 1: me and a poem. This recording is in the public domain.
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  Speaker 1: Two Songs of London by Charles Hanson town read for
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  Speaker 1: LibriVox dot Org by Nemo. Two Songs of London, one London, Unvisited,
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  Speaker 1: nineteen ten. London, I have not heard your thundering voice,
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  Speaker 1: save in my dreams. The magic of your name, your
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  Speaker 1: wonder and your fame, your glory and your shame. I've
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  Speaker 1: not known, save as the winds and hurricanes have blown
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  Speaker 1: rumors of your wild passion to our shores. When will
• 26:08
  Speaker 1: my heart beat with your iron heart? When will my
• 26:12
  Speaker 1: pulses quicken and rejoice of your strange music? Stranger than
• 26:17
  Speaker 1: all art. You are a monster shell that holds the
• 26:21
  Speaker 1: roar of the wild sea of life, so loudly rings
• 26:26
  Speaker 1: the strife that even across the waste. I hear you sing,
• 26:32
  Speaker 1: faint as the murmur of a robin's wing above me
• 26:36
  Speaker 1: on a silver morn of spring. I hear you as
• 26:40
  Speaker 1: a sick man hears a fife in a far street,
• 26:44
  Speaker 1: and the faint marching of ten thousand feet. He cannot
• 26:48
  Speaker 1: see the pageant in the sun, the flashing sword and gun.
• 26:53
  Speaker 1: Only the echo of the loud parade comes to his window,
• 26:57
  Speaker 1: where he dreams, almost afraid. London, you are the heart
• 27:04
  Speaker 1: of the wide world, wrapped in gray mist. How you
• 27:09
  Speaker 1: must shine at night, an amethyst whose fiery beams reach
• 27:14
  Speaker 1: through the terrible dark and flash to every corner of
• 27:19
  Speaker 1: the earth. You are a woman with time's awful mark
• 27:25
  Speaker 1: upon your brow. And you are foul and a clean.
• 27:31
  Speaker 1: You are a harlot and a holy queen. You are
• 27:35
  Speaker 1: the terror and the joy of life, a desperate mistress
• 27:39
  Speaker 1: and a patient wife. Oh, London, you are false, and
• 27:45
  Speaker 1: you are true, evil or good. I am in love
• 27:50
  Speaker 1: with you. Two London Faces nineteen eleven. I cannot forget
• 27:59
  Speaker 1: those London faces, tragic eyes that haunt me. Yet ghosts
• 28:05
  Speaker 1: of men in terrible places, shadows of women I cannot forget.
• 28:13
  Speaker 1: On the Embankment, they hurried by me, stared at the Thames,
• 28:18
  Speaker 1: and then moved on. The evening fog that hovered Nimi
• 28:23
  Speaker 1: hid them an instant, and they were gone. At charing
• 28:28
  Speaker 1: Cross and Piccadilly, they followed my handsome through the rain
• 28:33
  Speaker 1: nights were black, and knights were chilly, but thick with
• 28:37
  Speaker 1: a poor was each London lane, pale, pinched faces. Oh,
• 28:44
  Speaker 1: how ye haunt me thin gaunt beggars with lifted hand.
• 28:51
  Speaker 1: A sea is between us, but still ye want me
• 28:55
  Speaker 1: lonely derelics tossed on the strand. A sea is between us,
• 29:03
  Speaker 1: but I remember the leagues divide us. Ye haunt me
• 29:08
  Speaker 1: yet eyes with the age of bleak November, Oh London faces,
• 29:17
  Speaker 1: I cannot forget. And a poem. This recording is in
• 29:23
  Speaker 1: the public domain. An Easter canticle by Charles Hanson Town
• 29:33
  Speaker 1: read for LibriVox dot org by Nemo. An Easter canticle.
• 29:40
  Speaker 1: In every trembling bud and bloom that cleaves the earth,
• 29:45
  Speaker 1: a flowery sword, I see thee come from out the tomb.
• 29:50
  Speaker 1: Thou risen Lord. In every april wind that sings down
• 29:57
  Speaker 1: lanes that make the heart rejoice, yea. In the word
• 30:01
  Speaker 1: the wood thrush brings, I hear thy voice. Lo. Every
• 30:08
  Speaker 1: tulip is a cup to hold thy morning's brimming wine.
• 30:12
  Speaker 1: Drink O my soul, the wonder up? Is it not thine?
• 30:19
  Speaker 1: The Great Lord God invisible hath roused to rapture the
• 30:23
  Speaker 1: green grass, through sunlit mead and dew drenched ow. I
• 30:30
  Speaker 1: see him pass. His old immortal glory wakes the rushing
• 30:35
  Speaker 1: streams and emerald hills. His ancient trumpet softly shakes the daffodils.
• 30:44
  Speaker 1: Thou art not dead, Thou art the whole of life
• 30:49
  Speaker 1: that quickens in the sod green April is thy very soul,
• 30:55
  Speaker 1: thou great Lord God poem. This recording is in the
• 31:02
  Speaker 1: public domain. April Madness by Charles Hanson Town Read for
• 31:13
  Speaker 1: LibriVox dot org by Nemo. April Madness. There is a
• 31:20
  Speaker 1: time when the young year goes mad with very ecstasy,
• 31:24
  Speaker 1: when all the rapture of the world is crushed in
• 31:27
  Speaker 1: one wild melody. It is the hour when April comes
• 31:32
  Speaker 1: with silver flute and vera lay with magic pipe and
• 31:36
  Speaker 1: magical and sings their happy heart away. The bloom and
• 31:41
  Speaker 1: wonder of the spring are vocal on her golden tongue.
• 31:45
  Speaker 1: The soul of music comes to earth, and life and
• 31:48
  Speaker 1: love and joy are young. Join, oh my heart, in
• 31:53
  Speaker 1: this wild song. The jocund April sets you free. Drink
• 31:58
  Speaker 1: the old wine of her new day, go mad with
• 32:02
  Speaker 1: very ecstasy and a poem. This recording is in the
• 32:07
  Speaker 1: public domain. Waiting by Charles hanson Town read for LibriVox
• 32:18
  Speaker 1: dot org by Nemo Waiting. I thought my heart would
• 32:25
  Speaker 1: break because this spring was slow. I said, how long
• 32:30
  Speaker 1: young April sleeps beneath the snow. But when at last
• 32:35
  Speaker 1: she came and buds broke in the dew, I thought
• 32:39
  Speaker 1: of my dead love, and my heart broke too. And
• 32:45
  Speaker 1: a poem. This recording is in the public domain. The
• 32:53
  Speaker 1: Heights by Charles Hansome Town read for LibriVox dot org
• 33:00
  Speaker 1: by Nima. The Heights we climbed the hills, the tumbling hills,
• 33:07
  Speaker 1: the mighty shoulders of the world. When May was rich
• 33:11
  Speaker 1: with daffodils and spring's green banners were unfurled. We saw
• 33:17
  Speaker 1: from our exultant height the quiet villages afar, the roads
• 33:23
  Speaker 1: like ribbons, clean and bright, The river along Silver Bar
• 33:29
  Speaker 1: how great. From the low plain we deemed the wind
• 33:32
  Speaker 1: swept summit of the hills, how beautiful the valley seemed
• 33:37
  Speaker 1: up there among the daffodils. And a poem. This recording
• 33:45
  Speaker 1: is in the public domain. How Softly runs the Afternoon
• 33:54
  Speaker 1: by Charles Hansome Town read for LibriVox dot org. How
• 34:02
  Speaker 1: Softly runs the Afternoon, How softly runs the afternoon beneath
• 34:09
  Speaker 1: the billowy clouds of June. How brightly every moment slips,
• 34:15
  Speaker 1: How lightly sail the great cloud ships. How slowly all
• 34:20
  Speaker 1: the galleons go within that airy sea of snow, their
• 34:26
  Speaker 1: white sails set vast argaces, bound from mysterious hebrides. Ah,
• 34:34
  Speaker 1: let them vanish in the light beyond the sun, beyond
• 34:38
  Speaker 1: the night, faring to harbor strange and dim, beyond the
• 34:43
  Speaker 1: great world's utter rim. I shall not care. I envy
• 34:49
  Speaker 1: not their journeyings to lands forgot, For in the wonder
• 34:54
  Speaker 1: of your smiles, my heart is on enchanted aisles, And
• 35:00
  Speaker 1: in the silence of your soul I reach love's paradisal goal.
• 35:07
  Speaker 1: In the soft pressure of your hands, I touch far
• 35:11
  Speaker 1: magic fairy lands, And in the rapture of your kiss
• 35:17
  Speaker 1: I find the heavenly peaks of bliss. Beneath the billowy
• 35:22
  Speaker 1: skies of June. How softly runs the afternoon and a poem.
• 35:31
  Speaker 1: This recording is in the public domain. The Harvest of
• 35:40
  Speaker 1: the Sea by Charles Hansome Town read for LibriVox dotorg
• 35:46
  Speaker 1: by Nima The Harvest of the Sea in Memory of
• 35:51
  Speaker 1: the Titanic, The Jealous Sea moaned in the April night.
• 35:57
  Speaker 1: Lo there are comrades hidden in my heart, unfortunate who
• 36:03
  Speaker 1: sought me sick of life. But I am hungry for
• 36:07
  Speaker 1: brave souls, by crave their warmth and passion through my
• 36:11
  Speaker 1: chilling tides, their heads upon my bosom, and their hands
• 36:17
  Speaker 1: like children's hands about me in the dark. I need
• 36:20
  Speaker 1: their blood in my cold loneliness. A titan sailed her
• 36:27
  Speaker 1: weary leagues of foam, and, knowing her strange wish, her
• 36:31
  Speaker 1: mad desire. But there was menace in the starlit night,
• 36:36
  Speaker 1: and sudden doom upon deceiving paths, in a wild horror
• 36:41
  Speaker 1: on the mighty deep. The gray sea laughed and drew
• 36:46
  Speaker 1: those brave men down, and braver women who but mock'd
• 36:52
  Speaker 1: at death, seeing that love went with them. These the
• 36:56
  Speaker 1: souls the awful Sea desir'd, these the hearts she waited for,
• 37:02
  Speaker 1: And that stupendous hour they were enough to warm the
• 37:06
  Speaker 1: arctic waste, to fill with furnace, heat the frozen zones,
• 37:12
  Speaker 1: and fire the very sea that was their grave. But
• 37:18
  Speaker 1: dream not, mighty Ocean, They are yours. We have them still,
• 37:24
  Speaker 1: those high and valiant men who die that others might
• 37:27
  Speaker 1: reach ports of peace. Not in your jealous depths, their
• 37:32
  Speaker 1: spirits roam, but through the world to day and up
• 37:36
  Speaker 1: to heaven end a poem. This recording is in the
• 37:42
  Speaker 1: public domain. Glory Shall follow Glory by Charles Handsome Town
• 37:53
  Speaker 1: read for LibriVox dot Org by NeiMa Glory shall follow Glory.
• 38:01
  Speaker 1: One keats died, who knows in the wild bloom of
• 38:06
  Speaker 1: youth and learned all truth, that adonnaie might be sadly sung,
• 38:14
  Speaker 1: that through the halls of heaven from Shelley's tongue, that
• 38:18
  Speaker 1: royal dirge might thrill and surge deathlessly young. Perhaps a
• 38:25
  Speaker 1: poet passed that one might tell at last in this
• 38:30
  Speaker 1: immortal song his beauty and glory, chant his lament for
• 38:35
  Speaker 1: shining days soon spent in a great glowing story. Two
• 38:43
  Speaker 1: does Love thus go whither? We do not know that
• 38:49
  Speaker 1: one may sing the grandeur of Love's name, that one
• 38:54
  Speaker 1: who felt his fire and his flame may stand in
• 38:58
  Speaker 1: adoration at his palm, and in a song supreme, majestical voice,
• 39:05
  Speaker 1: the eternal wonder of the dead air Love has fled silent,
• 39:12
  Speaker 1: are we before his face Divine? But when the lamps
• 39:16
  Speaker 1: are wasted and the last cup is tasted, and stern
• 39:20
  Speaker 1: death sets her crown upon his head. There is a
• 39:24
  Speaker 1: singer who must sing Love's praise, record his dreams and days,
• 39:29
  Speaker 1: and keep the light forever before his shrine. End A poem.
• 39:35
  Speaker 1: This recording is in the public domain. An August Night
• 39:44
  Speaker 1: in the City by Charles Hansome Town read for LibriVox
• 39:49
  Speaker 1: dot org by Nimo. An August Night in the City.
• 39:56
  Speaker 1: I know a sad park, where, on breathless night throng
• 40:01
  Speaker 1: those whom, through the day the hot sun smites the
• 40:06
  Speaker 1: pallid pour, unlettered and alone, whose hearts are hotter than
• 40:11
  Speaker 1: the aching stone. This is their dormitory. Here they fare
• 40:18
  Speaker 1: after the summer noon's relentless glare. See here they crowd
• 40:24
  Speaker 1: like sheep without a fold, while all around them rings
• 40:28
  Speaker 1: the city's gold. But there are coasts beside, a lonely sea,
• 40:34
  Speaker 1: and hills and glens, and many a windsweptly where man
• 40:38
  Speaker 1: has never broken the silence deep. Yet here tonight an
• 40:44
  Speaker 1: army falls asleep. And a poem. This recording is in
• 40:50
  Speaker 1: the public domain. Dust and Dream by Charles Hansen Town
• 41:01
  Speaker 1: read for LibriVox dodorg buy Nima, Dust and Dream. Even
• 41:10
  Speaker 1: as rust hides the sword's gleam, so Earth's dull dust
• 41:15
  Speaker 1: obscures Heaven's dream. Yet do I trust death, Sour Supreme
• 41:23
  Speaker 1: for being dust? I shall live the dream and a poem.
• 41:29
  Speaker 1: This recording is in the public domain. Nevertheless by Charles
• 41:39
  Speaker 1: Hansome Town Read for LibriVox dodworg buy Nima Nevertheless. One
• 41:50
  Speaker 1: he heard the fifes at the end of the street.
• 41:54
  Speaker 1: He heard the marching of thousands of feet, the rush
• 41:58
  Speaker 1: and the murmur, the beat of the drum, the sudden,
• 42:01
  Speaker 1: strange delirium. He saw the gold banners and flying flags,
• 42:07
  Speaker 1: the rapturous faces of lads and hags, the light, romance
• 42:11
  Speaker 1: and the gleam of it all, the wonder, the magic,
• 42:16
  Speaker 1: the dream of it all. But he did not see
• 42:20
  Speaker 1: the lonely camp fires burning on distant fields, And he
• 42:24
  Speaker 1: forgot the yearning of aching hearts when knights were filled
• 42:27
  Speaker 1: with dread. He did not see the piteous, helpless dead.
• 42:33
  Speaker 1: He did not think of sorrow and alarms, the empty
• 42:37
  Speaker 1: years that mocked his empty arms. He did not think
• 42:42
  Speaker 1: of many a blood stained hill. Yet had he thought,
• 42:47
  Speaker 1: he would have followed still. Two she heard the story
• 42:56
  Speaker 1: old as the years. She waded through knights of girlhood,
• 43:00
  Speaker 1: years for the dream to come as come it must,
• 43:04
  Speaker 1: and make a glory of the dust. She said, no
• 43:08
  Speaker 1: love shall be like ours. Life's roadway bright with eternal flowers.
• 43:14
  Speaker 1: She saw the beauty, the light of it all, and
• 43:18
  Speaker 1: the terrible, splendid mte of it all. But she did
• 43:23
  Speaker 1: not know of days and nights of weeping, heart breaking
• 43:27
  Speaker 1: absence in slow shadows creeping around her couch to hide
• 43:32
  Speaker 1: love's blazing light. She did not know love has its
• 43:37
  Speaker 1: day and night. And she forgot the thorns amid the roses,
• 43:43
  Speaker 1: forgot that sometimes Love's book softly closes. She did not
• 43:47
  Speaker 1: know love's sorrow's blind and kill. Yet had she known,
• 43:52
  Speaker 1: she would have followed still and a poem. This recording
• 43:58
  Speaker 1: is in the public domain. Risen Indeed by Charles Hansome
• 44:08
  Speaker 1: Town read for LibriVox dot Org by Nemo Risen. Indeed,
• 44:18
  Speaker 1: how can I doubt that he has risen? Indeed, since
• 44:22
  Speaker 1: at the spring's exultant birth through his green earth, I
• 44:26
  Speaker 1: see the flowering of each hidden seed and feel again
• 44:31
  Speaker 1: the old immortal need. How can I doubt when through
• 44:37
  Speaker 1: white lanes I pass seeing the ancient beauty on the
• 44:40
  Speaker 1: boughs in God's great house. Hearing the bells at this
• 44:45
  Speaker 1: a prillion mass, seeing the congregation of the grass, how
• 44:52
  Speaker 1: can I doubt? Nay, let me bow my head before
• 44:56
  Speaker 1: the wonder of the april, flame and tears and shame,
• 45:00
  Speaker 1: since for one instant, o black moment of dread, I
• 45:05
  Speaker 1: dared to think that the Great Lord was dead and
• 45:11
  Speaker 1: the poem. This recording is in the public domain. The
• 45:21
  Speaker 1: Mystery by Charles Hansome Town read for LibriVox dot org
• 45:27
  Speaker 1: by Nimo. The Mystery They who have loved too well
• 45:34
  Speaker 1: and been betrayed, tried in the fire, and utterly dismayed.
• 45:39
  Speaker 1: Strange is it not? How they returned to love and
• 45:42
  Speaker 1: bear their hearts to His great gleaming blade. And the poem.
• 45:49
  Speaker 1: This recording is in the public domain. Penance by Charles
• 45:58
  Speaker 1: Hansome Town red for LibriVox dot org by Nema Penance.
• 46:08
  Speaker 1: Sometimes it seems to me the sea must ache, the
• 46:12
  Speaker 1: vast loneliness, its great heart nose, its mighty beat, its
• 46:18
  Speaker 1: thundering surge, and sway lost in the empty spaces, in
• 46:23
  Speaker 1: the dark of desolate nights, unpierced by any star on coast, forlorn,
• 46:30
  Speaker 1: it sheds its tears in vain up storm swept crags,
• 46:34
  Speaker 1: It sweeps with joy, and then falls back to sob
• 46:39
  Speaker 1: in the old terrible way. Who knows but that for
• 46:44
  Speaker 1: all the voiceless dead the sea has grasped and hidden
• 46:48
  Speaker 1: in its heart, It now must pay with this wild loneliness,
• 46:54
  Speaker 1: must beat forever on far. Solitudes of rock and ruin
• 46:59
  Speaker 1: and unrest sponsor isles and sing colossal sinner of the world,
• 47:06
  Speaker 1: an endless chant for its unending crimes end A poem.
• 47:14
  Speaker 1: This recording is in the public domain. The Pool by
• 47:23
  Speaker 1: Charles hansome Town read for LibriVox dot org by Nemo.
• 47:30
  Speaker 1: The Pool, to that great poppy pool, whence all pale
• 47:36
  Speaker 1: visions come sleep led me only yesternight, her white lips
• 47:42
  Speaker 1: sealed and dumb. I found them There old days that
• 47:48
  Speaker 1: I had lost arewhile and lo I found one dear thing,
• 47:54
  Speaker 1: my vanished love. Sad smile, I drank of that blessed
• 48:00
  Speaker 1: pool whose waters sang and tossed asleep, I knew the
• 48:05
  Speaker 1: ecstasy of all I ever lost. And a poem. This
• 48:14
  Speaker 1: recording is in the public domain. Youth is Cruel by
• 48:23
  Speaker 1: Charles hansome Town read for LibriVox dot org by Nemo.
• 48:30
  Speaker 1: Youth is cruel. Youth is cruel to the old. See
• 48:37
  Speaker 1: it flaunt its locks of gold in the windy morns
• 48:40
  Speaker 1: of spring. Hear its laughter, that mad ring, mocking ages echoing,
• 48:49
  Speaker 1: See its jubilant light skip and its own good fellowship,
• 48:54
  Speaker 1: crowding old ones from its way. Youth is cruel, lackaday.
• 49:01
  Speaker 1: Youth is cruel. Youth is blind. Nay, it would not
• 49:06
  Speaker 1: be unkind. Youth is heedless, that is all as it
• 49:12
  Speaker 1: sings its madragal only crabbed age is small. Youth knows
• 49:19
  Speaker 1: not its mighty strength till a sad day comes at length,
• 49:24
  Speaker 1: when it whispers in the cold. Youth is cruel to
• 49:29
  Speaker 1: the old. And a poem. This recording is in the
• 49:34
  Speaker 1: public domain. The Dead March by Charles Hansome Town read
• 49:46
  Speaker 1: for LibriVox dot Org by Nimo. The Dead March in Gododamerung.
• 49:55
  Speaker 1: Not only did I hear the thundering chords that swept
• 49:59
  Speaker 1: round beer, but I heard mysteriously low the far and
• 50:06
  Speaker 1: solemn tread of the old army of the mighty Dead,
• 50:11
  Speaker 1: they who went marching long and long ago toward the
• 50:15
  Speaker 1: great blinding glory of God's place. I saw each beautiful
• 50:20
  Speaker 1: face more beautiful now in death. I heard their quiet
• 50:26
  Speaker 1: footfalls as they passed. I saw triumphant banners in the sun,
• 50:33
  Speaker 1: as one by one they filed before me, happy, happy,
• 50:39
  Speaker 1: at last, I heard faint bugles and far mystic singing.
• 50:45
  Speaker 1: I heard the echo of a lark song ringing above
• 50:49
  Speaker 1: the hushed solemnity and peace of the slow march that
• 50:54
  Speaker 1: sang the great release. They moved before me, the exultant
• 51:00
  Speaker 1: and dead one came a glistening helmet on his head.
• 51:05
  Speaker 1: Then popes and kings in white and purple and red,
• 51:10
  Speaker 1: and legions from old battles, Emperors and mighty captains from
• 51:15
  Speaker 1: adventurous wars, high poets and sad seekers of the graal
• 51:21
  Speaker 1: with countenances, pale imperial host that dazed me with their glory,
• 51:29
  Speaker 1: silent yet eloquent of death's news story, a wonder on
• 51:34
  Speaker 1: their lips I could not read I who was living. Indeed,
• 51:41
  Speaker 1: I saw them pass, sinner and saint and sage, sovereign
• 51:47
  Speaker 1: and beggar of an ancient age, tatters and pomp one
• 51:52
  Speaker 1: at the final hour, one one at last, in that
• 51:58
  Speaker 1: vast harmony, the concentrated utterance of sound, that every falseness
• 52:04
  Speaker 1: drowned in a wide peace, immortality profound, beyond the borders
• 52:11
  Speaker 1: of immensity, and a poem. This recording is in the
• 52:18
  Speaker 1: public domain. Sunday by Charles Hansome Town read for LibriVox
• 52:29
  Speaker 1: dot Org by NeiMa Sunday. When I was a very
• 52:36
  Speaker 1: little lad, I used to go walking with my dad Sunday. Yes,
• 52:43
  Speaker 1: that was the day for me, the day of days
• 52:46
  Speaker 1: when Dad was free. He always bought me a red
• 52:50
  Speaker 1: balloon that seemed to me as big as the moon,
• 52:54
  Speaker 1: and he always took me to some fine shop and
• 52:57
  Speaker 1: gave me a glass of ginger pop. He took me
• 53:01
  Speaker 1: out in the country too, where buttercups and daisies grew,
• 53:06
  Speaker 1: and on one big bridge we used to stand and
• 53:09
  Speaker 1: watch the boats. It was fairy land. Dad died when
• 53:15
  Speaker 1: I was still quite small. I think I missed him
• 53:19
  Speaker 1: the most of all. And though I've seen most every
• 53:23
  Speaker 1: sight since I was such a tiny white, I often
• 53:27
  Speaker 1: longed for those Sunday walks, my red balloon and our
• 53:32
  Speaker 1: simple talks. And I've sought, but I never can seem
• 53:36
  Speaker 1: to find those curious streets that used to wind to
• 53:41
  Speaker 1: that wonderful bridge on which we stood, and that flower
• 53:45
  Speaker 1: filled meadow by the wood. Yet I know if I've
• 53:48
  Speaker 1: found them, the tears would start, and I think it
• 53:53
  Speaker 1: would almost break my heart. And a poem. This recording
• 53:59
  Speaker 1: is the public domain. The rush Hour by Charles Hansome
• 54:09
  Speaker 1: Town read for LibriVox dot Org by Nima. The rush Hour.
• 54:18
  Speaker 1: This is the big excitement of their lives, this teeming
• 54:23
  Speaker 1: rush hour, six o'clock at night. I never saw such
• 54:28
  Speaker 1: tired eyes. I never saw such faces so weary at
• 54:33
  Speaker 1: the close of a hard day. Those bright electric bulbs
• 54:38
  Speaker 1: in the thundering subway bring out the tragic lines on
• 54:42
  Speaker 1: their tragic brows, girls old before their time, dizzily swaying
• 54:49
  Speaker 1: in that awful conglomeration of human beings. Those merciless lights
• 54:55
  Speaker 1: hiding no single blemish, placed there with their flaming candle power,
• 55:01
  Speaker 1: so that the throngs may read their evening papers. But
• 55:05
  Speaker 1: some of the girls are far too tired to read.
• 55:08
  Speaker 1: They only hang on the straps, sick with the noise
• 55:12
  Speaker 1: of the train speeding uptown, yet glad to hear it,
• 55:16
  Speaker 1: since it means to them that every moment they are
• 55:19
  Speaker 1: near their sad homes. It seems to me they are
• 55:24
  Speaker 1: always rushing the forlorn sweatshop workers, the tired sales girls,
• 55:32
  Speaker 1: the pale clerks who light a cigarette, the moment that
• 55:35
  Speaker 1: they leave the crowded subway, hurrying, rushing, pushing, shoving, always
• 55:42
  Speaker 1: moving in a monotonous procession. In the morning, they rush
• 55:48
  Speaker 1: to perform miserable occupations in factories and lofts and darkened rooms.
• 55:55
  Speaker 1: And in the evening, when the whistle blows, they rush
• 55:57
  Speaker 1: for the same inevitable cars that hurl them to their
• 56:01
  Speaker 1: undesired homes. Always these tragic people are rushing, rushing. But
• 56:10
  Speaker 1: someday they shall go slowly, very slowly, one at a time,
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  Speaker 1: to a distant, quiet place, the only leisurely ride they
• 56:24
  Speaker 1: shall ever know. And a poem this recording is in
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  Speaker 1: the public domain. The Two Old Men by Charles Hanson
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  Speaker 1: Town read for LibriVox dot Org by Nimo The Two
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  Speaker 1: Old Men. There was something quaint and lovely about the
• 56:50
  Speaker 1: two old men as they sat together in the crowded car.
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  Speaker 1: I and the other young people around me watch them
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  Speaker 1: and heard their quiet conversation. We gathered in that little
• 57:06
  Speaker 1: trip down town through the great city, thundering with pain
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  Speaker 1: that these two wise yet simple comrades knew each other
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  Speaker 1: long ago, and here revived through some exquisite accident their
• 57:20
  Speaker 1: boyish friendship. After many years we caught but fragments of
• 57:26
  Speaker 1: their pleasant talk, but quite enough to love them for
• 57:30
  Speaker 1: the way they both recalled the record of old times.
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  Speaker 1: And I thought, when I am very old and very tired,
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  Speaker 1: I hope God sends to me so naturally, an old
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  Speaker 1: old crony to renew lost days. A comrade whom I
• 57:50
  Speaker 1: knew when I was young, one unashamed as I to
• 57:54
  Speaker 1: show his heart wholly to me, unmindful of the crowd,
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  Speaker 1: the curious crowd that might be all about us. And
• 58:06
  Speaker 1: a poem. This recording is in the public domain. Anniversaries
• 58:17
  Speaker 1: by Charles Hansome Town Read for LibriVox dot org by
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  Speaker 1: Nemo Anniversaries. Always it is a woman who remembers of
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  Speaker 1: two who might forget a certain day, whether it be
• 58:35
  Speaker 1: a love's by gun novembers or happily out of the
• 58:40
  Speaker 1: heart of May. Always a woman sits at life's cold embers,
• 58:45
  Speaker 1: seeking the gem where once a chining lay. Always it
• 58:50
  Speaker 1: is a woman who remembers, while heedless goes a man
• 58:54
  Speaker 1: upon his way. And a poem. This recording is in
• 58:59
  Speaker 1: the public domain. No Well by Charles Hansome Town read
• 59:10
  Speaker 1: for LibriVox dot Org by Nemo no Well. One, hark
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  Speaker 1: to each wonderful bell singing, no well know well the
• 59:25
  Speaker 1: jubilant chimes, and a thousand towers swinging in winter like
• 59:30
  Speaker 1: iron flowers lost in the cold December hours. They sing
• 59:36
  Speaker 1: and swing, and the old world bring the wise old
• 59:40
  Speaker 1: message that never dies. Under the steadfast starlit skies. Two.
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  Speaker 1: The loud winds tell it is our noell, and they
• 59:53
  Speaker 1: echo the song of each clamoring bell. They shout in
• 59:57
  Speaker 1: the darkness, over the snow, through the world the tidings blow.
• 1:00:03
  Speaker 1: The bells are the great glad voice of the Lord,
• 1:00:07
  Speaker 1: and the winds are his angels and sweet accord, whose
• 1:00:10
  Speaker 1: whispers surge and sweep through the night where the watchers
• 1:00:14
  Speaker 1: wait for the ancient light. Noel Noel sings each sudden
• 1:00:21
  Speaker 1: bell from the flowers, and the towers come a wild
• 1:00:26
  Speaker 1: no Well. Three, It is Christ's own hour. It is Christ,
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  Speaker 1: no Well, And the sad world faints, and the wonderful
• 1:00:38
  Speaker 1: swell the voice of God rings down the years to
• 1:00:43
  Speaker 1: hush our old discordant fears. No weel, no Well, I
• 1:00:48
  Speaker 1: hear him call a time of peace. Hath come to all.
• 1:00:53
  Speaker 1: His rapture, shakes the moonlit hills. His glory wakes our
• 1:00:58
  Speaker 1: souls and thrills be on the world beyond the sea,
• 1:01:03
  Speaker 1: to glory and infinity. No well, no well, it is
• 1:01:09
  Speaker 1: Christ's own hour thunders each bell like an iron flower
• 1:01:15
  Speaker 1: in every far and wind blown tower. And a poem.
• 1:01:22
  Speaker 1: This recording is in the public domain. The Last Sleep
• 1:01:32
  Speaker 1: by Charles Handsome Town read for LibriVox dot Org by Nemo.
• 1:01:39
  Speaker 1: The Last Sleep, some shining April. I shall be asleep,
• 1:01:46
  Speaker 1: and over me the ancient joy shall pass. I shall
• 1:01:50
  Speaker 1: not see young spring dance down the world with ribbons
• 1:01:54
  Speaker 1: of green grass, but I shall dream of all that
• 1:01:58
  Speaker 1: I have lost, breath of the wind, immortal loveliness, wild beauty,
• 1:02:05
  Speaker 1: of the sunlight on the hills. Now mine no less
• 1:02:11
  Speaker 1: because I slumber, nay, but more than mine, since I
• 1:02:17
  Speaker 1: a part of them, shall strangely be Only I ask,
• 1:02:22
  Speaker 1: when the pink hawthorn breaks, that one shall think of me.
• 1:02:30
  Speaker 1: End a poem. This recording is in the public domain.
• 1:02:36
  Speaker 1: End of Beyond the Stars by Charles Henson Town