 The Fisher's Boy by Henry David Thoreau, read for LibreVox.org by Betsy Bush in Marquette, Michigan, May 15, 2007. My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near the ocean's edge as I can go. My tardy steps, its waves sometimes o'erreach, sometimes I stay to let them overflow. My sole employment is, and scrupulous care, to place my gains beyond the reach of tides. Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore, they scorn the strand who sail upon the sea, yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er, is deeper known upon the strand to me. The middle sea contains no crimson dulls, its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view, along the shore my hand is on its pulse, and I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Fisher's Boy by Henry David Thoreau, read for LibreVox.org by Katherine Fitz, Davis, California, May 18, 2007. My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near the ocean's edge as I can go. My tardy steps, its waves sometimes o'erreach, sometimes I stay to let them overflow. My sole employment is, and scrupulous care, to place my gains beyond the reach of tides. Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore, they scorn the strand who sail upon the sea, yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er, is deeper known upon the strand to me. The middle sea contains no crimson dulls, its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view, along the shore my hand is on its pulse, and I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Fisher's Boy by Henry David Thoreau, read for LibreVox.org by Jenalee. My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near the ocean's edge as I can go. My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'erreach, sometimes I stay to let them overflow. My sole employment is, and scrupulous care, to place my gains beyond the reach of tides. Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore, they scorn the strand who sail upon the sea. Yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er, is deeper known upon the strand to me. The middle sea contains no crimson dulls, its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view, along the shore my hand is on its pulse, and I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Fisher's Boy by Henry David Thoreau, read for LibreVox.org by Jeanette Ferguson. My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near the ocean's edge as I can go. My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'erreach, sometimes I stay to let them overflow. My soul employment is, and scrupulous care, to place my gains beyond the reach of tides. Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore, they scorn the strand who sail upon the sea. Yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er, is deeper known upon the strand to me. The middle sea contains no crimson dulls, its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view, along the shore my hand is on its pulse, and I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Fisher's Boy by Henry David Thoreau, read for LibreVox.org by Karen Savage. My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near the ocean's edge as I can go. My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'erreach, sometimes I stay to let them overflow. My soul employment is, and scrupulous care, to place my gains beyond the reach of tides. Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore, they scorn the strand who sail upon the sea, yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er is deeper known upon the strand to me. The middle sea contains no crimson dulls, its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view, along the shore my hand is on its pulse, and I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Fisher's Boy by Henry David Thoreau, read for LibreVox.org by Leanne Howlett. My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near the ocean's edge as I can go. My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'erreach, sometimes I stay to let them overflow. My soul employment is, and scrupulous care, to place my gains beyond the reach of tides. Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore, they scorn the strand who sail upon the sea, yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er is deeper known upon the strand to me. The middle sea contains no crimson dulls, its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view, along the shore my hand is on its pulse, and I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Fisher's Boy by Henry David Thoreau, read for LibreVox.org by Lucy Burgoyne. My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near the ocean's edge as I can go. My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'erreach, sometimes I stay to let them overflow. My sole employment is, and scrupulous care, to place my gains beyond the reach of tides. Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore, they scorn the strand who sail upon the sea, yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er is deeper known upon the strand to me. The middle sea contains no crimson dulls, its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view, along the shore my hand is on its pulse, and I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. In the poem, this recording is in the public domain. The Fisher's Boy by Henry David Thoreau, read for LibreVox.org by Leon Meyer. My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near the ocean's edge as I can go. My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'erreach, sometimes I stay to let them overflow. My sole employment is, and scrupulous care, to place my gains beyond the reach of tides. Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore, they scorn the strand who sail upon the sea, yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er is deeper known upon the strand to me. The middle sea contains no crimson dulls, its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view, along the shore my hand is on its pulse, and I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. End of Poem This recording is in the public domain. The Fisher's Boy by Henry David Thoreau, read for LibreVox.org by Rebecca. My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near the ocean's edge as I can go. My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'erreach, sometimes I stay to let them overflow. My sole employment is, and scrupulous care, to place my gains beyond the reach of tides. Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore, they scorn the strand who sail upon the sea, yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er is deeper known upon the strand to me. The middle sea contains no crimson dulls, its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view, along the shore my hand is on its pulse, and I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. End of Poem This recording is in the public domain. The Fisher's Boy by Henry David Thoreau, read for LibreVox.org by Travis Phillips. My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near the ocean's edge as I can go. My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'erreach, sometimes I stay to let them overflow. My sole employment is, and scrupulous care, to place my gains beyond the reach of tides. Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore, they scorn the strand who sail upon the sea, yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er is deeper known upon the strand to me. The middle sea contains no crimson dulls, its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view, along the shore my hand on its pulse, and I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. End of Poem This recording is in the public domain. The Fisher's Boy by Henry David Thoreau, read for LibreVox.org by Tim McKenzie. My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near the ocean's edge as I can go. My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'erreach, sometimes I stay to let them overflow. My sole employment is, and scrupulous care, to place my gains beyond the reach of tides. Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore, they scorn the strand who sail upon the sea, yet oft I think the ocean they've sailed o'er is deeper known upon the strand to me. The middle sea contains no crimson dulls, its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view, along the shore my hand is on its pulse, and I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. End of Poem This recording is in the public domain.