 A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Bruce Gachuck When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me, where I stand, led on as by a Nemo silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face, turned round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band. It seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Katelyn Buckley When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me, where I stand, led on as by a Nemo silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face, Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band. It seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Charles Conover When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me, where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn around to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Charles Conover When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me, where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn around to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Chris Pyle When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me, where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all thy race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Christina Clark When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me, where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all thy race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Cornel Nemes in Reno, Nevada When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me, where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all thy race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Campbell Shelp When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me, where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all thy race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by David Wright When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me, where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by David Lawrence When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me, where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curve throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Newgate Novelist When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me, where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Garth Burton When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me, where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Graham Scott Cheltenham, England GrahamScottAudio.com When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all the race. A face that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Ian King When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee, for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Ian Howlett When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Larry Wilson When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Marion When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Michelle Frye, Baton Rouge, Louisiana in August 2019. When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Susan Fleming of Willington, Alabama When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace, of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips, burying in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Sierra, August 2019 When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace, of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips gloriaing in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls, but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Sierra, August 2019 When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace, of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips gloriaing in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Photograph by John Charles McNeil Read for LibriVox.org by Thomas Peter When in this room I turn in pondering pace and find thine eyes upon me where I stand, led on as by a Nemo's silken strand, I come and gaze and gaze upon thy face. Framed round by silence, poised on pearl-white grace, of curving throat, too sweet for beaded band, it seems as if some wizard's magic wand had wrought thee for the love of all the race. Dear face, that will not turn about to see the tulips gloriaing in the casement sun, or other days the drizzled raindrops run down the damp walls but follow only me. Would that Pygmalion's goddess might be one to change this lifeless image into thee? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.