 THE APOLOGY by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by Alan Davis Drake. Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Chide me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with the thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. In harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. THE APOLOGY by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by Amalor Mirnicks. Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Chide me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with the thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. THE APOLOGY by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by Clarica. Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Think me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. THE APOLOGY by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by Cricket. Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Think me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. THE APOLOGY by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by Dilibab. Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. THE APOLOGY by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by Doug Wetzel Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. THE APOLOGY by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by David Best Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. When harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by Esther Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by Esther Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by Hans Decker of wordsy.com Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by John Gonzales. www.jongon.com Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by John Baxter. Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by Gemma Bloth. Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Red for LibreVox.org by James Gladwin September the 4th, 2007, Somerset, England Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Each aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by J. M. Smallhair Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Each aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by J. M. Barrett Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by J. M. Barrett Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There never was a mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This dramatic recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by Kara Schellenberg Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never a mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by Katie Gibbany Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never a mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by Kristin Hughes Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never a mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by Leanne Howlett Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never a mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by Leanne Sun Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in the grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Every cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never a mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but the birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by Mary Mack Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never a mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by Paul Santagata Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never a mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by Philippa Willett Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by Robert Scott Mojo Move 411.com Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by Tamara Hamilton Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Apology by Ralph Waldo Emerson Read for LibreVox.org by Teresa Montgomery Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk alone in grove and glen. I go to the god of the wood, to fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I fold my arms beside the brook. Each cloud that floated in the sky writes a letter in my book. Child me not, laborious band, for the idle flowers I brought. Every aster in my hand goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery, but it is figured in the flowers. Was never secret history, but birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field, homeward brought the oxen strong. A second crop thine acres yield, which I gather in a song.