 Flood Tides of Flowers by Henry Van Dyke. Red for LibriVox.org by Andrea Fiori. In Holland. The laggard winter ebbs so slow, with freezing rain and melting snow. It seemed as if the earth would stay, forever where the tide was low, in sodden green and watery gray. But now from depths beyond our sight, the tide is turning in the night, and floods of color long concealed, come silent rising toward the light, through garden bare and empty field. And first along the sheltered nooks, the crocus runs in little brooks of joyance, till by light made bold they show the gladness of their looks, in shining pools of white and gold. The tiny silla sapphire blue, is gently sweeping in, to strew the earth with heaven, and sudden rills of sunlit yellow, sweeping through, spread into lakes of daffodils. The hyacinths with fragrant heads, have overflowed their sandy beds, and fill the earth with faint perfume, the breath that spring around her sheds, and now the tulips break in bloom. A sea, a rainbow tinted sea, a splendor and a mystery, floods over the fields of faded gray, the roads are full of folks and glee, for low, to day, is Easter day. April, 1916, end of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Flood Tide of Flowers by Henry Van Dyke, read for LibriVox.org by Anna Roberts. In Holland, the laggard winter ebbed so slow, with freezing rain and melting snow, it seemed as if the earth would stay forever where the tide was low, in sodden green and watery gray. But now, from depths beyond our sight, the tide is turning in the night, and floods of color long concealed come silent rising toward the light, through garden bare and empty field. And first, along the sheltered nooks, the crocus runs in little brooks of joints, till, by light made bold, they show the gladness of their looks in shining pools of white and gold. The tiny silla, sapphire blue, is gently sweeping in to strew the earth with heaven, and sudden rills of the sunlit yellow sweeping through spread into lakes of daffodils. The hyacinths with fragrant heads have overflowed their sandy beds, and fill the earth with faint perfume, the breath that spring around her sheds, and now the tulips break in bloom. A sea, a rainbow tinted sea, a splendor and a mystery, floods over the fields of faded gray, the roads are full of folks in glee, for low, today is Easter day. April 1916. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Flood Tide of Flowers by Henry Van Dyke Read for LibriVox.org by David Lawrence April 2009 in Brampton, Ontario In Holland the laggard winter ebbs so slow, with freezing rain and melting snow. It seemed as if the earth would stay forever, where the tide was low, in sodden green and watery gray. But now from depths beyond our sight the tide is turning in the night, and floods of color long concealed come silent rising toward the light, through garden bare and empty field. And first, along the sheltered nooks, the crocus runs in little brooks of giants, till by light made bold they show the gladness of their looks in shining pools of white and gold. The tiny cilia, sapphire blue, is gently sweeping in to stew the earth with heaven, and sudden rills of sunlit yellow, sweeping through, spread into lakes of daffodils. The hyacinths, with fragrant heads, have overflowed their sandy beds, and filled the earth with faint perfume. The breath that spring around her sheds, and now the tulips break in bloom. A sea, a rainbow-tinted sea, a splendor and a mystery, floods o'er the fields of faded gray. The roads are full of folks in glee, for low today is Easter day. April 1916 End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In Holland. The laggard winter ebbed so slow with freezing rain and melting snow, it seemed as if the earth would stay for ever where the tide was low, in sodden green and watery gray. But now from depths beyond our sight the tide is turning in the night, and floods of color long concealed come silent rising toward the light through garden, bare and empty field. And first along the sheltered nooks the crocus runs in little brooks of joints till the light made bold they show the gladness of their looks in shining pools of white and gold. The tiny cilia, sapphire blue, is gently sweeping in to stew the earth with heaven and sudden rills of sunlit yellow sweeping through, spread into lakes of daffodils. The hyacinths with fragrant heads have overflowed their sandy beds, and fill the earth with faint perfume, the breath that spring around her sheds, and now the tulips break in bloom. A sea, a rainbow-tinted sea, a splendor and a mystery, floods o'er the fields of faded gray, the roads are full of folks in glee, furlough, today is Easter day. April, 1916. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Flood Tide of Flowers by Henry Van Dyke, read for LibriVox.org by Heidi Park. In Holland, the laggard winter ebbed so slow with freezing rain and melting snow, it seemed as if the earth would stay forever where the tide was low, in sodden green and watery gray. But now from depths beyond our sight, the tide is turning in the night, and floods of color long concealed come silent rising towards the light, through garden bare and empty field. And first along the sheltered nooks, the crocus runs in little brooks of joints, till by light made bold they show the gladness of their looks in shining pools of white and gold. The tiny silla, sapphire blue, is gently sweeping in to strew the earth with heaven, and sudden rills of sunlit yellow sweeping through spread into lakes of daffodils. The hyacinths, with fragrant heads, have overflowed their sandy beds, and filled the earth with faint perfume, the breath that spring around her sheds, and now the tulips break in bloom. A sea, a rainbow tinted sea, a splendor and a mystery, floods o'er the fields of faded gray, the roads are full of folks and glee, for low today is Easter day. April, 1916. The laggard winter ebbed so slow, with freezing rain and melting snow, it seemed as if the earth would stay forever where the tide was low, in sodden green and watery gray. But now from depths beyond our sight, the tide is turning in the night, and floods of color long concealed come silent rising toward the light, through garden bare and empty field. And first along the sheltered nooks, the crocus runs in little brooks of joyance, till by light made bold they show the gladness of their looks and shining pools of white and gold. The tiny silla sapphire blue is gently sweeping in to strew the earth with heaven, and sudden rills of sunlit yellow sweeping through spread into lakes of daffodils. The hyacinths with fragrant heads have overflowed their sandy beds, and filled the earth with faint perfume, the breath that spring around her sheds, and now the tulips break in bloom. A sea, a rainbow tinted sea, a splendor and a mystery, floods o'er the fields of faded gray, the roads are full of folks and glee, for low today is Easter day. April 1916. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Flood Tide of Flowers by Henry Van Dyke. Read for LibriVox.org by Lucy Perry in Holland. The laggard winter ebbed so slow with freezing rain and melting snow. It seemed as if the earth would stay forever where the tide was low in sodden green and watery gray. But now from depths beyond our sight the tide is turning in the night. The floods of color long concealed come silent rising toward the light, through garden bare and empty field. And first along the sheltered nooks the crocus runs in little brooks of join, till by light made bold they show the gladness of their looks in shining pools of white and gold. The tiny silla sapphire blue is gently sweeping in to strew the earth with heaven, and sudden rills of sunlight yellow sweeping through spread into lakes of daffodils. The higher scents with fragrant heads have overflowed their sandy beds, and fill the earth with faint perfume, the breath that spring around her sheds, and now the tulips break in bloom. A sea, a rainbow tinted sea, a splendor and a mystery, floods over the fields of faded gray, the roads are full of folks in glee. Fallow, today is Easter day. April, 1916. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Flood Tide of Flowers by Henry Van Dyke. redfilipprivox.org by Raven Notation. In Holland, the laggard winter ebbs so slow with freezing rain and melting snow. It seemed as if the earth would stay forever where the tide was low, in sudden green and watery gray. But now from depths beyond our sight, the tide is turning in the night, and floods of color long concealed come silent rising toward the light through garden bare and empty field. And first, along the sheltered nooks, the crocus runs in little brooks of joints, till by light made bold, they show the gladness of their looks in shining pools of white and gold. The tiny scilla, sapphire blue, is gently sweeping in to strew the earth with heaven, and sudden rills of sunlight yellow sweeping through, spreading to lakes of daffodils. The hyacinths, with fragrant heads, have overlooked their sandy beds, and filled the earth with faint perfume, the breath that spring around her sheds, and now the tulips break in bloom. A sea, a rainbow tinted sea, a splendor and a mystery. Floods over the fields of faded gray, the roads are full of folks in glee, for low today is Easter day. April, 1916. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Freezing rain and melting snow, it seemed as if the earth would stay forever where the tide was low, in sodden green and watery gray. But now, from depths beyond our sight, the tide is turning in the night, and floods of color long concealed come silent rising towards the light through garden bare and empty field. And first, along the sheltered nooks, the crocus runs in little brooks of giants filled by light made bold, they show the gladness of their looks in shining pools of white and gold. The tiny scilla, sapphire blue, is gently sweeping in to strew the earth with heaven, and sudden rills of sudden lit yellow sweeping through, spread into lakes of daffodils. The hyacinths with fragrant heads have overflowed their sandy beds, and fill the earth with faint perfume, the breath that spring around her sheds, and now the tulips break in bloom. A sea, a rainbow tinted sea, a splendor and a mystery. Flads over the fields of faded gray, the roads are full of folks in glee, for low today is Easter day, April 1916. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.