 ADVENTURE by Adelaide Crapsey Red for LibriVox.org by Alan Davis Drake Sun and wind and beat of sea Great lands stretching endlessly Where be bonds to bind the free All the world was made for me End of poem, this recording is in the public domain Answer by Sir Walter Scott Red for LibriVox.org by Darren Greer DarrenGreer.com Sound, sound the clarion, feel the fife To all the sensual world proclaim One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name End of poem, this recording is in the public domain Bedtime by Francis Robert Roslin Red for LibriVox.org by Clarica Tis bedtime, say your hymn and bid good night God bless mama, papa, and dear ones all Your half-shut eyes beneath your eyelids fall Another minute you will shut them quite Yes, I will carry you, put out the light And tuck you up, although you are so tall What will you give me, sleepy one, and call my wages If I settle you all right? I laid her golden curls upon my arm I drew her little feet within my hand Her rosy palms were joined in trustful bliss Her heart next to mine beat gently, soft, and warm She nestled to me, and by love's command Paid me my precious wages, baby's kiss End of poem, this recording is in the public domain The Boine Water by Anonymous Red for LibriVox.org by DailyBub July the 1st of a morning clear, one thousand six hundred and ninety King William did his men prepare of thousands he had thirty To fight King James and all his foes Encamped near the Boine Water He little feared, though two to one, their multitude to scatter King William called his officers, saying, Gentlemen, mine your station, and let your valour here be shown Before this Irish nation My brazen walls let no man break, and your subtle foes you'll scatter Be sure you show them good English play as you go over the water Both foot and horse they marched on, intending them to batter But the brave Duke Schomburg he was shot as he crossed over the water When that King William did observe the brave Duke Schomburg falling He reigned his horse with heavy heart on the Anisquillans calling What will you do for me, brave boys? See yonder men retreating Our enemies encouraged are, the English drums are beating He says, my boys feel no dismay at losing one commander For God shall be our King this day, and I'll be general under Within four yards of our forefront, before a shot was fired, A sudden snuff they got that day, which little they desired For horse and man fell to the ground, and some hung on their saddle Others turned up their forked ends, which we call Cudalatal Prince Eugene's regiment was the next, on our right hand side Advanced into the field of standing wheat, where Irish horses pranced But the brandy ran so in their heads, their senses all did scatter They little thought to leave their bones that day at the Boine water Both men and horses lay on the ground, and many there lay bleeding I saw no sickles there that day, but sure there was sharp shearing Now praise God, all true Protestants, and heavens and earth's creator For the deliverance he sent our enemies to scatter The church's foes will pine away, like churlish hearted nabble For our deliverer came this day, like the great Zorbabel So praise God, all true Protestants, and I will say no further But had the papus gained the day, there would have been open murder Although King James and many more were near that way inclined It was not in their power to stop what the rabble they designed And of poem, this recording is in the public domain Sound after sound in heavy silence wanes at the strong sun's burning power Let the strong sun burn down the barren plain, and scour the empty heaven And twist the air to filmiest flickerings O'er us in vain His hollow vault doth glare For us, gnarled boughs and massive bowls o'er shade And tall bulrushes guard us with green spears from the grim noon Our dewy jeweled glade never a footstep nears Come feast with us, behold our fragrant store of candied locusts That no longer droned through summer eaves, but transmigrated poor thin goblin monotone Through eucalyptan stillness as we rouse our gnomie anthem to the answering trees While gold-eyed toad guards of our hidden house croak full-fed choruses Come visit us, O' follow till you find In some green shade our secret banquettings Where brolgust dance and some great stem behind A hidden lyre-bird sings Ask of the eagle-hawk in the blue air Ask of the chattering parrot he should tell Fat possum in the tree-bowl, furry bear, Us beast and bird know well The silver lizard on the sun-baked stone The green-flecked tree-snake in his circle coiled Dreaming of evil, man, and man alone missed us, however he toiled Come feast thou with us, ancient kings of all We are the mystery at the heart of noon Weird unseen chucklers when long shadows fall From the misleading moon We are the spirits of distorted trees We beckon down dim gullies, far astray Till lost, deep lost, the wild-eyed traveller Sees dark at the heart of day And, O, we laughed about his last choked groans beside the water that he sought so long And, O, we danced about his clean-picked bones To a gnomie undersong For all the day we chuckle and provoke With mocking shapes and noises each bright hour But when dark even from his grave hath broke Then we are lords of power End of poem. This recording is in the public domain The willows weep and waters run Here, where she lies asleep and all is done Lights when the treetop swings Sense that are sown Sounds of the wood-bird's wings And the bee's drone These be her comfortings under the stone What shall watch o'er her here When day is fled Here, when night is near And skies are red Here, where she lieth dear and young and dead Shadows and winds that spill dew And the tune of the wild whipper will And the white moon These be the watchers still over her stone End of poem. This recording is in the public domain Of every sort Give ear unto my song And if you find it wondrous short I cannot hold you long In Islington there was a man Of whom the world might say That still a godly race he ran Whenever he went to pray A kind and gentle heart he had To comfort friends and foes The naked every day he clad When he put on his clothes And in that town a dog was found As many dogs there be Both mongrel, puppy, welp, and hound And currs of low degree This dog and man at first were friends But when a peak began The dog, to gain his private ends Went mad and bit the man Around from all the neighbouring streets The wandering neighbours ran And swore the dog had lost his wits To bite so good a man The wound it seemed Both sore and sad to every Christian eye And while they swore the dog was mad They swore the man would die But soon a wonder came to light That showed the rogues they lied The man recovered from the bite The dogged was that died End of poem This recording is in the public domain Goblin Revel by Sigfried Sassoon Red for LibriVox.org by Clarica In golden grey, with fleering looks of sin I watched them come by two, by three, by four Advancing slow, with loudings They begin their woven measure, widening from the door While music men behind are straddling in with flutes To brisk their feet across the floor And jangled dulcimers and fiddles thin That taunt the twirling antic through once more They pause and hush to whispers steal away With cunning glances Silent go their shoo on creakless stairs But far away the dogs bark at some lonely farm And happily they have clambered back into the dusky moon That sinks beyond the marshes loud with frogs End of poem This recording is in the public domain House Fear by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org Always I tell you this they learned Always at night when they returned To the lonely house from far away To lamps unlighted and fire gone gray They learned to rattle the lock and key To give whatever might chance to be Warning and time to be off in flight And preferring the out to the indoor night They learned to leave the house door wide Until they had lit the lamp inside End of poem This recording is in the public domain If by Rudyard Tipling Red for LibriVox.org by David Butler If you can keep your head When all about you are losing theirs And blaming it on you If you can trust yourself When all men doubt you But make allowance for their doubting too If you can wait and not be tired By waiting or being lied about Don't deal in lies or being hated Don't give way to hating And yet don't look too good or talk too wise If you can dream and not make dreams your master If you can think and not make thought your aim If you can meet with triumph and disaster And treat those two imposters just the same If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by naves to make a trap for fools Or watch the things you gave your life to Broken And stoop and build them up with worn out tools If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch and toss And lose and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss If you can force your heart and nerve and sin you To serve your turn long after they are gone And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the will which says to them Hold on if you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue Or walk with kings nor lose the common touch If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you If all men count with you but none too much If you can feel the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run Yours is the earth and everything that's in it And which is more you'll be a man my son End of poem This recording is in the public domain The Impulse by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org It was too lonely for her there and too wild And since there were but two of them and no child And work was little in the house she was free And she followed where he furrowed field or felled tree She rested on a log and tossed the fresh chips with a song only to herself on her lips And once she went to break a bow of black alder She strayed so far she scarcely heard when he called her And didn't answer didn't speak Or return she stood And then she ran and hid in the fern He never found her though he looked everywhere And he asked at her mother's house was she there Sudden and swift and light as that the ties gave And he learned of finalities besides the grave End of poem This recording is in the public domain Libiswe by Dora Wilcox Recorded for LibriVox.org by Clarica Ah my heart the storm and sadness Wind that moans uncomforted Requiem for love that's dead love that's dead Leafless trees that sow and sigh Gloom of earth and gray of sky Ah my heart what storm and sadness Ah my heart those sweet September's Ah the glory and the glow of the spring tides long ago Long ago Gleam of gold and glint of green on the grassy hillside scene Ah my heart those sweet September's Ah my heart on sweet soft pinions Spring the loved one hovers nigh She shall settle by and by By and by But the hills shall shine in vain Love alas comes not again Ah my heart on sweet soft pinions End of poem This recording is in the public domain Loneliness Her Word By Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org One ought not to have to care So much as you and I care when the birds come round the house to seem to say goodbye Or care so much when they come back with whatever it is they sing The truth being we are as much too glad for the one thing As we are too sad for the other here With birds that fill their breasts but with each other and themselves And their built or driven nests End of poem This recording is in the public domain The oft repeated dream By Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org She had no saying dark enough for the dark pine That kept forever trying the window latch of the room where they slept The tireless but ineffectual hands that with every futile pass Made the great tree seem as a little bird before the mystery of glass It never had been inside the room And only one of the two was afraid in an oft repeated dream Of what the tree might do End of poem This recording is in the public domain The Owl By Edward Thomas Read for LibriVox.org By Emily White Down hill I came Hungry and yet not starved Cold Yet had heat within me that was proof against the north wind Tired Yet so that rest had seemed the sweetest thing under a roof Then at the inn I had food, fire and rest Knowing how hungry, cold and tired was I All of the night was quite barred out except An owl's cry A most melancholy cry Shaken out long and clear upon the hill No merry note nor cause of merriment But one telling me plain what I escaped And others could not that night as in I went And salted was my food and my repose Salted and sobered too by the bird's voice Speaking for all who lay under the stars Soldiers and poor Unable to rejoice End of poem This recording is in the public domain The Smile Her Word By Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org I didn't like the way he went away That smile it never came of being gay Still he smiled Did you see him? I was sure Perhaps because we gave him only bread And the wretch knew from that that we were poor Perhaps because he let us give Instead of seizing from us as he might have seized Perhaps he mocked us for being wed Or being very young And he was pleased to have a vision of us old and dead I wonder how far down the road he's got He's watching from the woods as like as not End of poem This recording is in the public domain By Edward Thomas Read for LibriVox.org By Emily White Tall nettles cover up As they have done these many springs The rusty harrow The plough long worn out And the roller made of stone Only the elm butt tops the nettles now This corner of the farmyard I like most As well as any bloom upon a flower I like the dust on the nettles Never lost Except to prove the sweetness of a shower End of poem This recording is in the public domain To Sleep By William Wordsworth Read for LibriVox.org By Darren Greer DarrenGreer.com A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one The sound of rain and bees Mermoring The fall of rivers Winds and seas Smooth fields White sheets of water And pure sky I've thought of all by turns And still I lie sleepless And soon the small birds' melodies must hear First uttered from my orchard trees And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry Even thus last night And two nights more I lay And could not win these sleep By any stealth So do not let me wear tonight away Without thee What is all the morning's wealth? Come, blessed barrier between day and day Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health End of poem This recording is in the public domain Two or Three Poses By John Keats Read for LibriVox.org By Sergio Baldelli In Rome October 2007 2 or 3 poses With a 2 or 3 simples 2 or 3 noses With a 2 or 3 pimples 2 or 3 wise men And a 2 or 3 nines 2 or 3 purses And a 2 or 3 guineas 2 or 3 wraps At 2 or 3 doors 2 or 3 naps Of a 2 or 3 hours 2 or 3 cats And a 2 or 3 mice 2 or 3 sprays That's at a very great price, two or three sandies, and the two or three tabbies, two or three dandies, and the two Mrs. Mom, two or three smiles, and the two or three frowns, two or three miles, to two or three tarnes, two or three pegs, for two or three bonnets, two or three dove's eggs, to hatch into sonnets. End of a poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Wanderer by Bula May. Read for Librebox.org by Alan Davis Drake. Out of the railroad eating house comes a lean brown man, and putting down his pack sits smoking a cigarette. The glow lights up his sensitive, voltaire face, gazing moodily out on the trail. The blue patches under his eyes show that he is not slept. It is evident that he has not long to live, and that he knows it. He will die sooner if he smokes cigarettes, and that's the reason why he is smoking one. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.