 In a Garden by Amy Lowell, read for LibriVox.org by Alan Davis Drake, gushing from the mouths of stone men to spread at ease under the sky, in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind. The water fills the garden with its rushing, in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains. Marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps, it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep-cool murmur. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming-pool, white and shining in the silver-flecked water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness. Night and water, and you in your whiteness bathing. In a garden by Amy Lowell, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica, gushing from the mouths of stone men to spread at ease under the sky, in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind. The water fills the garden with its rushing, in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains. Marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps, it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep-cool murmur. And I wished for night and you, I wanted to see you in the swimming-pool, white and shining in the silver-flecked water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness. Night and the water, and you in your whiteness bathing. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In a Garden by Amy Lowell, read for LibriVox.org by Darren Greer, Darrengreer.com Gushing from the mouths of stone men to spread at ease under the sky, in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind. The water fills the garden with its rushing, in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smother ferns and tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps, it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep-cool murmur. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming pool, white and shining in the silver-reflect water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness. Night and the water, and you in your whiteness bathing. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In a garden by Amy Lowell, read for LibriVox.org by Glamradiva. Gushing from the mouths of stone men, to spread at ease under the sky, in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind. The water fills the garden with its rushing, in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell, the ferns and tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps, it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep-cool murmur. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming pool, white and shining in the silver-reflect water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night. And the scent of a lilacs was heavy in stillness, night in the water and you in your whiteness, bathing. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In a garden by Amy Lowell, read for LibriVox.org by Hans Decker of wordsy.com. Gushing from the mouths of stone men, to spread at ease under the sky, in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind, the water fills the garden with its rushing, in the midst of the quiet of close-lipped lawns. Damp smell, the ferns and tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep cool murmur. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming pool, white and shining in the silver-reflect water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness, night and the water and you in your whiteness bathing. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In a garden by Amy Lowell, redforlibrebox.org by Gemma Blythe. Gushing from the mouths of stone men, to spread at ease under the sky, in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind, the water fills the garden with its rushing, in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns, damp-smell the ferns in tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep cool murmur. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming pool, white and shining in the silver-flecked water, while the moon rode over the garden. I in the arch of night and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness, night and the water and you in your whiteness bathing. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In a Garden by Amy Lowell. Read for LibriVox.org by James Gladwin. Somerset, October 2007. Gushing from the mouths of stone men, to spread at ease under the sky, in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind, the water fills the garden with its rushing, in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep, cool murmur. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming pool, white and shining in the silver-flecked water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness. Night and the water, and you in your whiteness, bathing. Ender Perim. This recording is in the public domain. In a Garden by Amy Lowell. Read for LibriVox.org by Katie Gibbany. Gushing from the mouths of stone men to spread at ease under the sky in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind, the water fills the garden with its rushing in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss tarnished steps it falls, the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep cool murmur. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming pool, white and shining in the silver-flecked water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness. Night and the water, and you in your whiteness, bathing. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In a Garden by Amy Lowell. Read for LibriVox.org by Kristen Hughes. Gushing from the mouths of stone men to spread at ease under the sky in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind. The water fills the garden with its rushing, in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell the ferns and tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps it falls, the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping in deep, cool murmur. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming pool, white and shining in the silver-flecked water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness. Night and the water and you in your whiteness bathing. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In a Garden by Amy Lowell. Read for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. Gushing from the mouths of stone men to spread at ease under the sky in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind, the water fills the garden with its rushing, in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell the ferns and tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep cool murmur. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming pool, white and shining in the silver-flecked water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness. Night in the water, and you in your whiteness bathing. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In a Garden by Amy Lowell. Read for LibriVox.org by Mike Love. Gushing from the mouths of stone men to spread at ease under the sky in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind, the water fills the garden with its rushing in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell, the ferns and tunnels of stone, where trickle and splash the fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps, it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep cool murmur. And I wished for the night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming pool, white and shining in the silver-flecked water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, and the scent of lilacs was heavy with stillness. Night in the water, and you in your whiteness, bathing. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In a Garden by Amy Lowell. Read for LibriVox.org by Mary Mack. Gushing from the mouths of stone men, to spread at ease under the sky in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind. The water fills the garden with its rushing in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains, marble fountains yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps, it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep cool murmur. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming pool, white and shining in the silver-flecked water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness. Night in the water, and you in your whiteness, bathing. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In a Garden by Amy Lowell, read for LibriVox.org by Mark Smith. Gushing from the mouths of stone men to spread at ease under the sky in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind, the water fills the garden with its rushing in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Dabbs smell the ferns in tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps, it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep cool murmur. And I wished for night, and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming-pool, white and shining in the silver-flecked water, while the moon rode over the garden high in the arch of night, and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness. Night in the water, and you in your whiteness, bathing. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. In A Garden by Amy Lowell Read for LibriVox.org by Peter Yersley Gushing from the mouths of stone men to spread at ease under the sky in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind, the water fills the garden with its rushing in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps, it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep cool murmur. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming-pool, white and shining in the silver-flecked water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness. Night in the water, and you in your whiteness, bathing. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. In a Garden, by Amy Lowell, read Philippa Vox.org by Schurtigal. Gushing from the mouths of stone men to spread a ease under the sky in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind, the water fills the garden with its rushing in the midst of the quiet and close-clipped lawns. Damp smell of ferns and tunnels of stone, where trickled the plash of fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished steps, it falls the water, and the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep cool murmuring. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming-pool, white and shining in the silver-flecked water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, in the scent of the lilacs that was heavy with stillness. Night in the water, and you in your whiteness bathing. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. In a Garden, by Amy Lowell, read for LibriVox.org by Wendy in Utah. Gushing from the mouths of stone men, to spread at ease under the sky in granite-lipped basins, where iris dabble their feet and rustle to a passing wind, the water fills the garden with its rushing, in the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone, where trickle and plash the fountains, marble fountains, yellowed with much water, splashing down moss-tarnished steps, it falls, the water. And the air is throbbing with it, with its gurgling and running, with its leaping and deep cool murmuring. And I wished for night and you. I wanted to see you in the swimming-pool, white and shining in the silver-flect water, while the moon rode over the garden, high in the arch of night, and the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness, night and the water, and you in your whiteness bathing. End of poem.