 From the Forests by Henry Kendall RedForLibbyVox.org by Algypug Where in a green moist myrtle-dell The torrent voice rings strong and clear Above a star bright well I write this woodland song The melodies of many leaves float in a fragrant zone And hear our flowers by deep, mossed eaves That to-day has never known I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words With certain words alive with a light of welcome For a thing of promise Born beneath the white, soft afternoon Of spring The faithful few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today from me May every page within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook All flower and leaf and flower May all the strength and all the grace Of letters make it beam As beams alorn whose lovely face Is as a glorious dream And may that strange divinity That men call genius Write some deathless thing In days to be to fill those days With light Here, where the free frank waters run I pray this book may grow A sacred candor like the sun Above the morning snow May noble thoughts, in faultless words In clean white addiction Make it shine as shines The home of birds and moss And leaf and lake This fair fresh life with joy a hail And this belief express Its days will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success Here ends my song I have a dream of beauty Like the grace which lies upon the land of stream In yonder mountain place End of poem This recording is in a public domain Where in a green moist myrtle dell The torrent voice rings strong And clear above a star bright well I write this woodland song The melodies of many leaves Float in a fragrant zone And here are flowers by deep musteves That day has never known I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words With certain words alive with light Of welcome for a thing of promise Born beneath the white soft afternoon Of spring The faithful few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today from me May every page within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook All flower and leaf and flower May all the strength and all the grace Of letters make it beam As beams alon whose lovely face Is as a glorious dream And may that strange divinity That men call genius right Some deathless thing in days to be To fill those days with light Here where the free Frank Waters run I pray this book may grow A sacred candor like the sun Above the morning snow May noble thoughts in faultless words In clean white diction make It shine as shines the home of birds And moss and leaf and lake This fair fresh life with joy I hail And this belief express Its days will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success Here ends my song I have a dream of beauty like the grace Which lies upon the land of stream In yonder mountain place And a poem, this recording is in the public domain From the Forests by Henry Kindall Read for LibberVox.org by Chad Horner from Ballycler In County Antrim, Northern Ireland Situated in the northeast of the island of Ireland Where in a green moist myrtle-dell The torrent voice ring strong And clear above a star-bright well I write this woodland song The melodies of many leaves Float in a frequent zone And hear our flowers by deep-mossed eaves That day has never known I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words With certain words alive with light Of welcome for a thing of promise Born beneath the white Soft afternoon of spring The faithful of few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today for me May every page within this book Be as radiant are Or like a bank of mountain brook All flower and leaf and flower May all the strength And all the grace of letters make it beam As beams along Whose lovely face is as a glorious dream And may that strange divinity That men call genius right Some deathless thing in days to be To fill those days with light Here where the free Frank Waters run I pray this book may grow A sacred candour like the sun Above the morning snow May noble thoughts in faultless words In clean white diction make It shine as shines the home of birds And moss and leaf and lake This fair fresh life with joy I hail And this belief express It stays will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success Here ends my song I have the dream of beauty like the grace Which lies upon the land of stream In yonder mountain place End of poem this recording is in the public domain From the Forests by Henry Kindle Read for liverbox.org by Chris Pyle We're in a green moist myrtle dell The torrent voice rings strong and clear Above a star bright well I write this woodland song The melodies of many leaves float In a fragrant zone And here are flowers by deep mossed eaves That day has never known I'll weave a garland out of these The darling of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words With certain words alive with light Of welcome for a thing of promise Born beneath the white soft afternoon of spring The faithful few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today from me May every page within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook All flower and leaf and flower May all the strength And all the grace of letters make it beam As beams along whose lovely face Is as a glorious dream And may that strange divinity That men call genius Write some deathless thing in days to be To fill those days with light Here where the free Frank waters run I pray this book may grow a sacred candor Like the sun above the morning snow May noble thoughts and faultless words In clean white diction make it shine As shines the home of birds And moss and leaf and lake This fair fresh life with joy I hail And this belief express Its days will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success Here ends my song I have a dream of beauty like the grace Which lies upon the land of stream In yonder mountain place End of poem This recording is in the public domain From the Forests by Henry Kendall Read for LibriVox.org by David Lawrence Where in a green moist myrtle-dell The torrent voice rings strong and clear Above a star bright well I write this woodland song The melodies of many leaves Float in a fragrant zone And hear our flowers By deep mossed eaves That day has never known I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words With certain words alive with light Of welcome for a thing of promise Born beneath the light Soft afternoon of spring The faithful few have waited long a life Like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today from me. May every page within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook All flower and leaf and flower. May all the strength and all the grace Of letters make it beam As beams along whose lovely face Is as a glorious stream. And may that strange divinity That men call genius Write some deathless thing In days to be to fill those days with light. Here where the free frank waters run I pray this book may grow a sacred candor Like the sun above the morning snow. May noble thoughts in faultless words In clean white diction Make it shine as shines the home Of birds and moss and leaf and lake. This fair fresh life with joy I hail And this belief express Its days will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success. Here ends my song. I have a dream of beauty Like the grace which lies upon the land Of stream in yonder mountain place. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. From the Forests by Henry Kendall Read for LibriVox.org by Newgate Novelist. Where in a green moist myrtle dell The torrent voice rings strong and clear Above a star bright well I write this woodland song. The melodies of many leaves Float in a fragrant zone And here are flowers by deep moustives That day has never known. I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words With certain words alive with light Of welcome for a thing of promise Born beneath the white Soft afternoon of spring. The faithful few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today from me. May every page within this book Be has a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook All flower and leaf and flower. May all the strength and all the grace Of letters make it beam As beams alone whose lovely face Is as a glorious dream And may that strange divinity That men call genius right Some deathless thing in days to be To fill those days with light. Here where the free Frank Waters run I pray this book may grow A sacred candour like the sun Above the morning snow. May noble thoughts in faultless words In clean white diction make it shine As shines the home of birds and moss And leaf and lake. This fair fresh life with joy I hail And this belief express Its days will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success. Here ends my song. I have a dream of beauty like the grace Which lies upon the land of stream In yonder mountain place. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. From the Forest by Henry Kendall Read for Librevox.org by Frank Teft Where in a green moist myrtle-dell The torrent voice rings strong And clear above a star bright well I write this woodland song. The melodies of many leaves float in a fragrant zone And hear our flowers by deep mossed eaves That day has never known. I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words. With certain words alive with light Of welcome for a thing Of promise born beneath the white Soft afternoon of spring. The faithful few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today for me. May every page within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook A flower in leaf and flower. May all the strength and all the grace Of letters make it beam As beams along whose lovely face Is as a glorious dream. And may that strange divinity That men call genius write Some deathless thing in days to be To fill those days with light. Here where the free Frank Waters run I pray this book may grow Like a sacred candor like the sun Above the morning snow. May noble thoughts and faultless words In clean white diction make It shine as shines the home of birds And moss and leaf and lake. This fair-fresh life with joy I hail And this belief express Its days will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success. Here ends my song. I have a dream of beauty like the grace Which lies upon the land of stream In yonder mountain place. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The melodies of many leaves Float in a fragrant zone And here are flowers by deep most eaves That day has never known. I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words. With certain words alive with light Of welcome for a thing of promise Born beneath the white soft afternoon of spring. The faithful few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today from me. May every page within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook All flower and leaf and flower. May all the strength and all the grace Of letters make it beam As beams a lawn whose lovely face Is as a glorious dream. And may that strange divinity That men call genius right Some deathless thing in days to be To fill these days with light. Here where the free frank waters run I pray this book may grow A sacred candour like the sun Above the morning snow. May noble thoughts in faultless words In clean white diction make it shine As shines the home of birds and moss And leaf and lake. This fair fresh life with joy I hail And this belief express Its days will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success. Here ends my song. I have a dream of beauty like the grace Which lies upon the land of stream In yonder mountain place. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. From the Forests by Henry Kendall Read for LibriVox.org by JD Gibson Where in a green moist myrtle dell The torrent voice rings strong and clear Above a star bright well I write this woodland song. The melodies of many leaves float in a fragrant zone And here are flowers by deep-mossed eaves That day has never known. I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words. With certain words alive with light Of welcome for a thing I promise born beneath the white Soft afternoon of spring. The faithful few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today from me. May every page within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook All flower and leaf and flower. May all the strength and all the grace Of letters make it beam As beams along whose lovely face Is as a glorious dream. And may that strange divinity That men called genius write Some deathless things in days to be To fill those days with light. Here where the free Frank Waters run I pray this book may grow A sacred candor like the sun Above the morning snow. May noble thoughts and faultless words In clean white diction make It shine as shines the home of birds And moss and leaf and lake. This fair fresh life with joy I hail And this belief express Its days will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success. Here ends my song. I have a dream of beauty like the grace Which lies upon the land of stream In yonder mountain place. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. From the Forests by Henry Kendall. Read for LibriVox.org by Jennifer Henry. Where in a green moist myrtle dell The torrent voice rings strong and clear Above a star bright well I write this woodland song. The melodies of many leaves float In a fragrant zone. And here are flowers by deep Mossed eaves that day has never known. I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words With certain words alive with a light Of welcome for a thing of promise Born beneath the white soft afternoon of spring. The faithful few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today from me. May every page within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook Of flower and leaf and flower. May all the strength and all the grace Of letters make it beam As beams along whose lovely face Is as a glorious dream. And may that strange divinity That men call genius Write some deathless thing in days To be, to fill those days with light. Here where the free Frank Waters run I pray this book may grow A sacred candor Like the sun above the morning snow. May noble thoughts in faultless words In clean white diction Make it shine as shines the home Of birds and moss and leaf and lake. This fair fresh life with joy I hail And this belief express its days Will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success. Here ends my song. I have a dream of beauty like the grace Which lies upon the land Of stream in yonder mountain place. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. From the Forests by Henry Kindle Read for LibriVox.org by Larry Wilson Where in a green moist myrtle-dell The torrent voice rings strong and clear Above a star-bright well I write this woodland song. The belladies of many leaves Float in a fragrant zone And hear our flowers by deep-mossed eaves That day has never known. I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words. With certain words alive with light Of welcome for a thing of promise Born beneath the white soft afternoon of spring. The faithful few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today from me. My every page within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook All flower and leaf and flower. May all the strength and all the grace of letters Make it beam as beams along Whose lovely face is as a glorious dream. And may that strange divinity That men call genius Write some deathless thing in days to be To fill those days with light. Here where the free Frank Waters run I pray this book may grow a sacred candor Like the sun above the morning snow. May noble thoughts and faultless words In clean white diction make It shine as shines the home of birds And moss and leaf and lake. This fair fresh life with joy I hail And this belief express. Its days will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success. Here ends my song. I have a dream of beauty Like the grace which lies upon the land Of stream in yonder mountain place. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. From the Forests by Henry Kendall Read for LibriVox.org by Nardia Menon We're in a green moist Myrtle Dell The torrent of voicering strong and clear Above a star bright well I write this woodland song The melodies of many leaves Float in a fragrant zone And hear our flowers by deep, Most eaves that day has never known I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words With certain words alive with light Of welcome for a thing of promise Born beneath the white soft Afternoon of spring. The fateful few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today for me. May every page within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook All flower and leaf and flower May all the strength and all the grace Of letters make it beam As beams along whose lovely face Is as a glorious dream. I made that strange divinity That men call genius right Some deathless thing in days to be To fill those days with light. Here where the free frank waters run I pray this book may grow A sacred candor like the sun Above the morning snow May noble thoughts in faultless words In clean white diction make It shine as shines the home of birds And moss and leaf and lake. This fair fresh life with joy I hail In this belief express Its days will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success. Here ends my song. I have a dream of beauty like the grace Which lies upon the land of stream In yonder mountain place. The recording is in the public domain. From the Forests by Henry Kendall Read for LibriVox.org by Phil Shempf Where in the green moist myrtle dell The torrent voice rings strong And clear above a star bright well I write this woodland song. The melodies of many leaves Float in a fragrant zone And hear our flowers by deep moss and eaves That day has never known. I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words. With certain words alive with light Of welcome for a thing of promise Born beneath the white Soft afternoon of spring. The faithful few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today from me. May every page within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook All flower and leaf and flower. May all the strength and all the grace Of letters make it beam. As beams along whose lovely face Is as a glorious dream. And may that strange divinity That men call genius right Some deathless thing in days to be To fill those days with light. Here where the free Frank Waters run I pray this book may grow A sacred candor like the sun Above the morning snow. May noble thoughts and faultless words In clean white diction make It shine as shines the home of birds And moss and leaf and lake. This fair fresh life with joy I hail And this belief express. Its days will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success. Here ends my song. I have a dream of beauty like the grace Which lies upon the land of stream In yonder mountain place. And a poem this recording Is in the public domain. From the Forests by Henry Kendall Read for LibriVox.org By Sophia Kendall. Where in a green moist myrtle dow The torrent voice rings strong And clear above a star bright well I write this woodland song. The melodies of many leaves Float in a fragrant zone And here are flowers by deep-mossed eaves That day has never known. I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words. With certain words alive with light Of welcome for a thing Of promise borne beneath the white Soft afternoon of spring. The faithful few have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand the song That flows today from me. May every page within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank of mountain brook All flower and leaf and flower. May all the strength and all the grace Of letters make it beam As beam along whose lovely face Is as a glorious dream And may that strange divinity That men call genius right In these days to be To fill those days with light. Here where the free Frank Waters run I pray this book may grow A sacred candor like the sun Above the morning snow. May noble thoughts in faultless words In clean white diction make It shine as shines the home of birds And moss and leaf and lake. This fair fresh life with joy I hail And this belief express Its days will be a brilliant tale Of effort and success. Here ends my song. I have a dream of beauty like the grace Which lies upon the land of stream In yonder mountain place. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. From the Forests by Henry Kendall read for LibriVox.org by Shakewell. We're in a green moist Myrtle Dell The torrent voice rings strong And clear above a star bright well. I write this woodland song. The melodies of many leaves Float in a fragrant zone. And here are flowers by deep, mossed eaves That day has never known. I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words. With certain words Alive with light Of welcome for a thing Of promise. Born beneath the white Soft afternoon of spring. The faithful few Have waited long A life like this to see And they will understand The song that flows today From me. May every page Within this book Be as a radiant hour Or like a bank Of mountain brook All flower and leaf May all the strength And all the grace of letters Make it beam As beams along Whose lovely face is As a glorious stream And may that strange divinity That men call genius write Some deathless thing In days to be To fill those days With light. Here, where the free Frank Waters run, I pray this book May grow a sacred candor Like the sun above The morning snow. May noble thoughts In faultless words In clean white diction make It shine as shines The home of birds And moss and leaf and lake. This fair fresh life With joy I hail And this belief express Its days will be A brilliant tell And success. Here ends my song. I have a dream of beauty like the grace Which lies upon the land Of stream in yonder Mountain place. And a poem. This recording is in a public domain. I'll weave a garland out of these The darlings of the birds And send it over singing seas With certain sunny words. With certain words Alive with light Of welcome for a thing Of promise born beneath the white Soft afternoon of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring And the day of spring as beams along whose lovely face is as a glorious dream. And may that strange divinity that men call genius right, some deathless thing in days to be to fill those days with light. Here where the free Frank waters run, I pray this book may grow, a sacred candor like the sun above the morning snow. May noble thoughts and faultless words in clean white diction make, it shine as shines the home of birds and moss and leaf and lake. This fair fresh life with joy I hail, and this belief express, its days will be a brilliant tale of effort and success. Here ends my song, I have a dream of beauty like the grace, which lies upon the land of stream, in yonder mountain place, end of poem. This recording is in the public domain. From the Forests by Henry Kendall, read for LibriVox by Thomas Kuhnline. Where in a green moist myrtle dell the torrent voice rings strong, and clear above a star bright well I write this woodland song. The melodies of many leaves float in a fragrant zone, and here are flowers by deep mossed eaves that day has never known. I'll weave a garland out of these, the darlings of the birds, and send it over singing seas with certain sunny words, with certain words alive with light, of welcome for a thing, of promise born beneath the white soft afternoon of spring. The faithful few have waited long, a life like this to see, and they will understand the song that flows today from me. May every page within this book be as a radiant hour, or like a bank of mountain brook, all flower and leaf and flower. May all the strength and all the grace of letters make it beam, as beams all on whose lovely face is as a glorious dream. And may that strange divinity that men call genius right, some deathless thing in days to be, to fill those days with light. Here, where the free frank waters run, I pray this book may grow, a sacred candor like the sun above morning snow. May noble thoughts and faultless words in clean white diction make, it shine as shines the home of birds, and moss and leaf and lake. This fair fresh life with joy I hail, and this belief express, its days will be a brilliant tale of effort and success. Here ends my song, I have a dream of beauty like the grace, which lies upon the land of stream in yonder mountain place. And of poem, this recording is in the public domain. From the forest by Henry Kendall, read for Libbervox.org by Wynn Stewart, Where in a green moist myrtle dell, the torrent voice rings strong and clear above a star bright well, I write this woodland song. The melodies of many leaves float in a fragrant zone, and here are flowers by deep most eaves that day has never known. I'll weave a garland out of these, the darlings of the birds, and send it over singing seas with certain sunny words. With certain words alive with light of welcome for a thing, of promise born beneath the white soft afternoon of spring. The faithful few have waited long, a life like this to see, and they will understand the song that flows today from me. May every page within this book be as a radiant hour, or like a bank of mountain brook, all flower and leaf and flower. May all the strength and all the grace of letters make it beam, as beams alone whose lovely face is as a glorious dream. And may that strange divinity that men call genius write, some deathless thing in days to be, to fill those days with light. Here where the free frank waters run, I pray this book may grow, a sacred candour like the sun above the morning snow. May noble thoughts and faultless words in clean white diction make, it shine as shines the home of birds and moss and leaf and lake. This fair fresh life with joy I hail, and this belief express, its days will be a brilliant tale of effort and success. Here ends my song, I have a dream of beauty like the grace, which lies upon the land of stream in yonder mountain place. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain.