 My Prime of Youth is but a frost of cares by Chidiak Tishborn. Read for LibriVox.org by Caitlyn Cooper in Covington, Louisiana, December 8, 2007. My Prime of Youth is but a frost of cares. My Feast of Joy is but a dish of pain. My Crop of Corn is but a field of tears, And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is gone and yet I saw no sun, And now I live and now my life is done. The spring is past and yet it hath not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My youth is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My threat is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live and now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die and now I am but made. The glass is full and now the glass is run. And now I live and now my life is done. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. My Prime of Youth is but a frost of cares, By Chidiak Titchbourne, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. My Prime of Youth is but a frost of cares, My Feast of Joy is but a dish of pain. My Crop of Corn is but a field of tears, And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is gone and yet I saw no sun, And now I live and now my life is done. The spring is past yet it hath not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My youth is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My threat is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live and now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die and now I am but made. The glass is full and now the glass is run. And now I live and now my life is done. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. My Prime of Youth is but a frost of cares. My Feast of Joy is but a dish of pain. My Crop of Corn is but a field of tears. And all my good is but vain hope of gain. This day is gone and yet I saw no sun. And now I live and now my life is done. The spring is past and yet it hath not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My youth is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My threat is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live and now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die and now I am but made. The glass is full and now the glass is run. And now I live and now my life is done. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. My Prime of Youth is but a frost of cares. By Chidiak Titchborn. Read for LibriVox.org. By Durant Hare. My Prime of Youth is but a frost of cares. My Feast of Joy is but a dish of pain. My Crop of Corn is but a field of tears. And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is gone and yet I saw no sun. And now I live and now my life is done. The spring is past and yet it hath not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My youth is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live and now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die and now I am but made. The glass is full and now the glass is run. And now I live and now my life is done. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. My Prime of Youth is but a frost of cares. By Chidiak Titchborn. Read for LibriVox.org. My Prime of Youth is but a frost of cares. My feast of joy is but a dish of pain. My crop of corn is but a field of tears. And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is gone and yet I saw no sun. And now I live and now my life is done. The spring is past and yet it hath not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My youth is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live and now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die and now I am but made. The glass is full and now the glass is run. And now I live and now my life is done. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. My prime of use is but a frost of cares. By Trudyot Tishburn. Read for LibriVox.org by JC Guan. Montreal December 2007. My prime of use is but a frost of cares. My feast of joy is but a dish of pain. My crop of corn is but a field of tears. And all my good is but vain hope of gain. Today is gone and yet I saw no sun. And now I live and now my life is done. The spring is past and yet it has not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My use is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live and now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die and now I am but made. The glasses fall and now the glasses run. And now I live and now my life is done. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. By Chidiak Tickburn. Read for LibriVox.org by Katie Gibbany. Arkansas December 2007. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. My feast of joy is but a dish of pain. My crop of corn is but a field of tears. And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is gone and yet I saw no sun. And now I live and now my life is done. The spring is past and yet it has not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My youth is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live and now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die and now I am but made. The glass is full and now the glass is run. And now I live and now my life is done. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. By Chidiak Tickburn. Read for LibriVox.org by Kristen Hughes. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. My feast of joy is but a dish of pain. My crop of corn is but a field of tears. And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is gone and yet I saw no sun. And now I live and now my life is done. The spring is past and yet it has not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My youth is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live and now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die and now I am but made. The glass is full and now the glass is run. And now I live and now my life is done. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares by Chitty Titchbourne. Read for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. My feast of joy is but a dish of pain. My crop of corn is but a field of tears. And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is gone and yet I saw no sun. And now I live and now my life is done. The spring is past and yet it hath not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My youth is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live and now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die and now I am but made. The glass is full and now the glass is run. And now I live and now my life is done. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. By Chidiak Tishborn. Read for LibriVox.org by Mark Smith. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. My feast of joy is but a dish of pain. My crop of corn is but a field of tears. And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is gone and yet I saw no sun. And now I live and now my life is done. The spring is past and yet it hath not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My youth is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live. And now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die. And now I am but made. The glass is full and now the glass is run. And now I live. And now my life is done. And a poem. This recording is in the public domain. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. By Chidiok Titchborn. Read for LibriVox.org by Paul Z. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. My feast of joy is but a dish of pain. My crop of corn is but a field of tears. And all my good is but vain hope of gain. Today is gone and yet I saw no sun. And now I live. And now my life is done. The spring is past and yet it has not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My youth is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My fret is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live. And now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die. And now I am but made. The glass is full and now the glass is run. And now I live. And now my life is done. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. By Chidiok Titchporn. Read for LibriVox.org by Peter Yersley. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. My feast of joys but a dish of pain. My crop of corn is but a field of tears. And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is gone and yet I saw no sun. And now I live. And now my life is done. The spring is past and yet it hath not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My youth is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live. And now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die. And now I am but made. The glass is full. And now the glass is run. And now I live. And now my life is done. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. By Chidiok Titchporn. Read for LibriVox.org by Sean McGahey. DucktapeGuy.net. My prime of youth is but a frost of cares. My feast of joy is but a dish of pain. My crop of corn is but a field of tears. And all my good is but vain hope of gain. The day is gone and yet I saw no sun. And now I live and now my life is done. The spring is past and yet it hath not sprung. The fruit is dead and yet the leaves are green. My youth is gone and yet I am but young. I saw the world and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut and yet it was not spun. And now I live and now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb. I looked for life and saw it was a shade. I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb. And now I die and now I am but made. The glass is full and now the glass is run. And now I live and now my life is done.