 That night, by James Whitcombe Riley, read for Librabox.org by Bethany. You and I, and that night, with its perfume and glory, the scent of the locusts, the light of the moon, and the violin weaving the waltzers' story, and meshing their feet in the weft of the tune, till their shadows uncertain reeled round on the curtain, while under the trellis we drank in the June. Soaked through with the midnight the cedars were sleeping, their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright crystal moon smitten mists where the fountains' heart leaping forever, forever burst full with the light, and at lisp on my spirit fell faint as that mirret whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses, the breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, and the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses, and the music, in fancy I hear it today, as I sit here confessing our secret and blessing my rival who found us and waltzed you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Forever burst full with the light, and at lisp on my spirit fell faint as that mirret whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses, the breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, and the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses, and the music, in fancy I hear it today, as I sit here confessing our secret and blessing my rival who found us and waltzed you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. That night by James Wittcombe Riley, read for LibriVox.org by Caitlin Buckley. You and I, and that night, with its perfume and glory, the scent of the locusts, the light of the moon, and the violin weaving the Walters' story in meshing their feet in the weft of the tune, till their shadows uncertain reeled round on the curtain while under the trellis we drank in the June. Soaked through with the midnight, the cedars were sleeping, their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright, crystal moonsmitten mists where the fountains' heart leaping, forever, forever burst full with delight, and its lisp on my spirit fell faint as that mirret whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses, the breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, and the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses, and the music, in fancy I hear it today, as I sit here confessing our secret and blessing my rival who found us and waltzed you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. That night by James Wittcombe Riley, read for LibriVox.org by Craig Franklin. You and I, and that night with its perfume and glory, the scent of the locusts, the light of the moon, and the violin weaving the waltzes a story in meshing their feet in the weft of the tune till their shadows uncertain reeled round on the curtain while under the trellis we drank in the June. Soaked through with the midnight the cedars were sleeping, their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright crystal moon-spitten mists, where the fountains' heart leaping, forever, forever burst full with delight, and its lisp on my spirit fell faint as that mirret whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses. The breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, and the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses, and the music, in fancy I hear it today, as I sit here confessing our secret and blessing my rival who found us and waltzed you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Soaked through with the midnight the cedars were sleeping, their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright crystal moon-spitten mists, where the fountains' heart leaping forever, forever burst full with delight, and its lisp on my spirit fell faint as that mirret whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses. The breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, and the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses, and the music, in fancy I hear it today, as I sit here confessing our secret and blessing my rival who found us and waltzed you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. That night by James Whitcomb Riley. Read for LibriVox.org by David Lawrence. You and I, and that night, with its perfume and glory, the scent of the locusts, the light of the moon, and the violin weaving the waltzers a story, and meshing their feet in the weft of the tune till the shadows uncertain real ground on the curtain while under the trellis we drank in the June. Soak through, with the midnight, the cedars were sleeping, their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright crystal moon smitten mists, where the fountains' heart, leaping forever, forever burst full with delight, and its lisp on my spirit fell faint as that mirret whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses, the breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, and the rose at your throat was a nest of spilt kisses, and the music, in fancy I hear it today, as I sit here confessing our secret and blessing my rival who found us and waltzed you away. In the poem, this recording is in the public domain. That night by James Wittcombe Riley, read for LibriVox.org by Dominique van de Voorlem. You and I, and that night, with its perfume and glory, the scent of the locusts, the light of the moon, and the violin weaving the waltzers a story and meshing their feet in the weft of the tune, till their shadows uncertain real ground on the curtain while under the trellis we drank in the June. Soaked through with the midnight, the cedars were sleeping, their shadowy tresses outlined in their bright, crystal, moonsmithing mists, where the fountains' heart leaping forever, forever burst, full with delight, and its lisp on my spirit fell faint as that mirret whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odourous sachet of blisses, the breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, and the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses, and the music in fancy I hear it today as I sit here confessing our secrets and blessing my rival who found us and waltzed you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. That night by James Whitcomb Riley, read for LibriVox.org by Newgate Novelist. You and I, and that night with its perfume and glory, the scent of the locusts, the light of the moon, and the violin weaving the waltzers a story and meshing their feet in the weft of the tune, till their shadows uncertain real ground on the curtain while under the trellis we drank in the June. Soaked through with the midnight, the cedars were sleeping, their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright crystal, moon smitten mists where the fountains heart leaping forever, forever burst, full with delight, and its lisp on my spirit fell faint as that mirret whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses, the breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, and the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses, and the music in fancy I hear it today as I sit here confessing our secrets and blessing my rival who found us and waltzed you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. We drank in the June. Soaked through with the midnight the cedars were sleeping, Their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright crystal Moon-smithen mists, where the fountains' heart Leaping for ever, for ever burst full with delight. And its lisp on my spirit fell faint, as that near it, Whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses, The breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, And the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses. And, the music, in fancy I hear it today, As I sit here confessing our secret, and blessing my rival who found us, And waltzed you away. That night, by James Whitcomb Riley, read for LibriVox by Phil McCullough. You and I, and that night, with its perfume and glory, The scent of the locusts, the light of the moon, And the violin weaving the waltzers' story, In meshing their feet in the weft of the tune, Till their shadows uncertain reeled round on the curtain, While under the trellis we drank in the June. Soaked through with the midnight, the cedars were sleeping, Their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright, crystal-moon smitten mists, Where the fountains' heart leaping forever, forever burst full with delight. And its lisp in my spirit fell faint, as that near it, Whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses, The breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, And the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses, And the music. In fancy, I hear it today, as I sit here confessing our secret, And blessing my rival who found us, and waltzed you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. That night, by James Whitcomb Riley, Read for LibriVox.org by Phil Schenf. You and I, and that night, with its perfume and glory, The scent of the locusts, the light of the moon, And the violin weaving the waltzers a story, And meshing their feet in the weft of the tune, Till their shadows uncertain reeled round on the curtain, While under the trellis we drank in the dune. Soak through with the midnight the cedars were sleeping, Their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright, Crystal, moon-smithing mists, where the fountains' heart, Leaping forever, forever burst, full with delight, And its lisp on my spirit fell faint as that near it, Whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous satchet of blisses, The breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, And the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses. And the music, in fancy I hear it today, As I sit here, confessing our secret, And blessing my rival who found us and waltzed you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Soak through with the midnight the cedars were sleeping, Their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright, Crystal, moon-smithing mists, where the fountains' heart, Leaping forever, forever burst, full with delight, And its lisp on my spirit fell faint as that near it, Whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous satchet of blisses, The breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, And the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses. And the music, in fancy I hear it today, As I sit here, confessing our secret, And blessing my rival who found us and waltzed you away. End of that night. This recording is in the public domain. By James Woodcomb Riley, read for LibriVox.org by Sabrina Santiago. The date is April 24th, 2020. My location is Ocote, Florida. And my personal URL is Santiago Sabrina, 2018. You and I end that night with its perfume and glory, The scents of the locusts, the light of the moon, And the violin weaving the waltz through the story, Meshing their feet in the left of the tune, Till their shadows uncertain, Reeled round on the curtain, While under the trellis we drank in the june. Soaked through with the midnight the cedars were sleeping, Their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright, Crystal, moon-smithing mists, Where the fountains' hearts leaping, Forever, forever burst full with delight, And its lisp on my spirit, Self-saint as they near it, Whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses, The breath of your fan was a breeze from cafe, And the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses, And the music and fancy I hear it today, As I stay here confessing our secret and blessing, My rival who found us in the waltz, you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. That night, by James Wickham-Reilly, read for LibraryVolks.org by Skylin Rose, 420-2020 Dalton, Georgia, United States, You and I, in that night, With its perfume and glory, The scent of the locust, the light of the moon, And the violin weaving the waltzers' story, And meshing their feet in the weft of the tune, Till their shadows uncertain, grilled round on the curtain, While under the trellis we drank in the June. Soaked through with the midnight, The cedars were sleeping, Their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright, Crystal moon smitten mist, Where at the fountain's heart leaping, Forever, forever burst full with delight, And its lisp on my spirit fell faint as that near it, Whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses, The breath of your fan was a breeze from Kathy, And the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses, And the music and fancy I hear it today, As I sit here confessing our secret, And blessing my rival who found us and waltzed you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The night of the moon and the violin weaving the waltzers a story, And meshing their feet in the weft of the tune, Till their shadows uncertain, Reeled round on the curtain, While under the trellis we drank in the June. Soaked through the midnight, The cedars were sleeping, Their shadowy tresses outlined in the bright, Crystal moon smitten mist, Where at the fountain's heart leaping, Forever, forever burst full with delight, And its lisp on my spirit fell faint as that near it, Whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses, The breath of your fan was a breeze from Kathy, And the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses, And the music and fancy I hear it today, As I sit here confessing our secret, And blessing my rival who found us and waltzed you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. That night by James Whitcombe Riley, Read for LibriVox.org by Wyn Stewart. You and I in that night, With its perfume and glory, The scent of the locusts, The light of the moon, And the violin weaving the waltzers' story, In meshing their feet in the weft of the tune, Till their shadows uncertain, Reeled round on the curtain, While under the trellis we drank in the June. Soak through with the midnight, The cedars were sleeping, Their shadowy traces outlined in the bright, Crystal moon smitten mists, Where the fountains heart leaping, Forever, forever burst full with delight, And its lisp on my spirit, Fell faint as that near it, Whose love like a lily bloomed out in the night. Oh, your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses, The breath of your fan was a breeze from Cathay, And the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled kisses, And the music in fancy I hear it today, As I sit here confessing our secret and blessing, My rival who found us and waltzed you away. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.