 Great is the sun and wide he goes, Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days, More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad, He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hayloft smiles. Meantime his golden face surround He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by Alan Davis-Strake. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, In the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he finds a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad, He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hayloft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by Alan Mayers-June 27th, Silver Spring, Maryland. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad, He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hayloft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by Christine Blashford. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad, He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hayloft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by Calm Dragon. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad, He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laden hayloft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by Ernst Patinama. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad, He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laden hayloft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by Ezwa, In Belgium in June 2008. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad, He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laden hayloft smiles. In time his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by J. C. Guan, Montreal June 2008. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad, He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laden hayloft smiles. In time his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laden hayloft smiles. In time his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by Joe Billsbury. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into laden hayloft smiles. In time his golden face around He bears to all the garden round, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills among the blue Round the brightest air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laden hayloft smiles. In time his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laden hayloft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by Linda McDaniel. Atlanta, Georgia. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laden hayloft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. End of poem. This reading is in the public domain. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by Mark Penfold. June 21, 2008. Lincoln, Nebraska. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hayloft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson, Read for LibriVox.org by Reese Lawton. Great is the sun and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad He through the keyhole make if glad, And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hayloft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. And wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose, And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider clad He through the keyhole make if glad, And though the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hayloft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bears to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivies in most nook. Above the hills along the blue Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child to paint the rose, The gardener of the world he goes.