 Everlasting Flowers by D. H. Lawrence Red Four LibriVox.org by Alan Davis Drake Who do you think stands watching the snow-tops shining rosy in heaven, now that the darkness takes all but the tallest posey? Who then sees the two-winged boat down there, all alone in a sleep on the snow's last shadow, like a moth on a stone? The olive leaves, light as gadflies, have all gone dark, gone black. And now in the dark my soul to you turns back. To you, my little darling, to you out of Italy, for what is loveliness my love save you have it with me? So there's an oxen-wagon come darkly into sight, a man with a lantern swinging a little light. What does he see, my darling? Here by the darkened lake, here in the sloping shadow the mountains make. He says not a word, but passes, staring at what he sees. What ghost of us both do you think he saw under the olive trees? All the things that are lovely, the things you never knew. I wanted to gather them one by one and bring them to you. But never now, my darling, can I gather the mountain-tips from the twilight, like half-shut lilies, to hold to your lips. And never the two-winged vessel that sleeps below on the lake can I catch like a moth between my hands, for you to take. But hush, I am not regretting, it is far more perfect now. I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world, and tell them how I know you are here in the darkness, how you sit in the throne of my eyes, at peace, and look out of the windows in glad surprise. Everlasting Flowers by D. H. Lawrence, read for LibriVox.org by Eleanor Matheson. Who do you think stands watching the snow-top shining rosy, in heaven, now that the darkness takes all but the tallest posey? Who then sees the two-winged boat down there, all alone in a sleep on the snow's last shadow, like a moth on a stone? The olive leaves, light as gadflies, have all gone dark, gone black. And now in the dark my soul to you turns back. To you, my little darling, to you out of Italy, for what is loveliness my love, save you have it with me. So there's an oxen wagon comes darkly into sight, a man with a lantern swinging a little light. What does he see, my darling, here by the darkened lake, here in the sloping shadow the mountains make? He says not a word but passes, staring at what he sees. What ghost of us both do you think he saw, under the olive trees? All the things that are lovely, the things you never knew, I wanted to gather them one by one and bring them to you. But never now, my darling, can I gather the mountain tips from the twilight-like half-shut lilies to hold to your lips? And never the two-winged vessel that sleeps below on the lake can I catch like a moth between my hands for you to take. But hush, I am not regretting, it is far more perfect now, I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world and tell them how. I know you here in the darkness, how you sit in the throat of my eyes, at peace and look out of the windows in glad surprise. Who do you think stands watching, the snow-tops shining rosy, in heaven, now that darkness takes all but the tallest posey? Who then sees the two-winged boat down there, all alone, and asleep on the snow-slash shadow, like a moth on a stone? The olive leaves, light as gadflies, have all gone dark, gone black. And now, in the dark, my soul to you turns back. To you, my little darling, to you out of Italy, for what is loveliness my love, save you have it with me? So there's an oxen wagon, comes darkly into sight, a man with a lantern swinging, a little light. What does he see, my darling, here by the darkened lake, here in this sloping shadow, the mountains make? He says not a word, but passes, staring at what he sees. What ghost of us both do you think he saw, under the olive trees? All the things that are lovely, the things you never knew, I wanted to gather them one by one, and bring them to you. But never now, my darling, can I gather the mountain-tips, from the twilight, like half-shut lilies, to hold to your ellipse? And never the two-winged vessel that sleeps below on the lake, can I catch like a moth between my hands, for you to take? But hush, I am not regretting, it is far more perfect now, I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world, and tell them how, I know you here in the darkness, are you sit in the throne of my eyes, at peace, and look out of the windows in glad surprise. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Everlasting Flowers by D. H. Lawrence Read for LibriVox.org by Kristen Hughes Who do you think stands watching, the snow-tops shining rosy in heaven, now that the darkness takes all but the tallest posy? Who then sees the two-winged boat down there, all alone, and asleep on the snow's last shadow, like a moth on a stone? The olive leaves, light as gadflies, have all gone dark, gone black. And now in the dark, my soul to you turns back. To you, my little darling, to you, out of Italy, for what is loveliness my love, save you have it with me. So there's an oxen wagon comes darkly into sight, a man with a lantern swinging a little light. What does he see, my darling, here by the darkened lake? Here in the sloping shadow the mountains make. He says not a word, but passes, staring at what he sees. What ghost of us both do you think he saw under the olive trees? All the things that are lovely, the things you never knew, I wanted to gather them one by one and bring them to you. But never now, my darling, can I gather the mountain tips from the twilight, like half-shut lilies to hold to your lips. And never the two-winged vessel that sleeps below on the lake, can I catch like a moth between my hands for you to take. But hush, I am not regretting. It is far more perfect now. I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world and tell them how I know you here in the darkness, how you sit in the throne of my eyes at peace and look out of the windows in glad surprise. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Everlasting Flowers by D. H. Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. Who do you think stands watching the snow-tops shining rosy in heaven now that the darkness takes all but the tallest posy? Who then sees the two-winged boat down there all alone in a sleep on the snow's last shadow like a moth on a stone? The olive leaves, light as gadflies, have all gone dark, gone black. And now in the dark my soul to you turns back. To you, my little darling, to you out of Italy, for what is loveliness my love, save you have it with me? So there's an oxen wagon comes darkly into sight, a man with a lantern swinging a little light. What does he see, my darling, here by the darkened lake, here in the sloping shadow the mountains make? He says not a word but passes, staring at what he sees. What ghost of us both do you think he saw under the olive trees? All the things that are lovely, the things you never knew, I wanted to gather them one by one and bring them to you. But never now, my darling, can I gather the mountain tips from the twilight like half-shut lilies to hold to your lips. And never the two-winged vessel that sleeps below on the lake can I catch like a moth between my hands for you to take. But hush, I am not regretting. It is far more perfect now. I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world and tell them how I know you here in the darkness, how you sit in the throne of my eyes at peace and look out of the windows in glad surprise. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Everlasting Flowers by D. H. Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by Lisa Esch, Folly Beach, South Carolina. Who do you think stands watching the snow tops shining rosy in heaven now that the darkness takes all but the tallest posey? Who then sees the two-winged boat down there all alone and asleep on the snow's last shadow like a moth on a stone? The olive leaves light as gadflies have all gone dark, gone black, and now in the dark my soul to you turns back. To you, my little darling, to you out of Italy, for what is loveliness my love save you have it with me? So there's an oxen wagon, comes darkly into sight, a man with a lantern swinging, a little light. What does he see, my darling? Here by the darkened lake, here in the sloping shadow the mountains make. He says not a word but passes, staring at what he sees. What ghost of us both do you think he saw under the olive trees? All the things that are lovely, the things you never knew, I wanted to gather them one by one and bring them to you. But never now, my darling, can I gather the mountain tips from the twilight like half-shut lilies to hold to your lips. And never the two-winged vessel that sleeps below on the lake can I catch like a moth between my hands for you to take. But hush, I am not regretting. It is far more perfect now. I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world and tell them how. I know you here in the darkness, how you sit in the throne of my eyes at peace and look out of the windows in glad surprise. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Everlasting Flowers by D.H. Lawrence, read for LibriVox.org by Rhonda Thetterman. Who do you think stands watching the snow tops shining rosy in heaven now that the darkness takes all but the tallest posey? Who then sees the two-winged boat down there all alone and asleep on the snow's last shadow like a moth on a stone? The olive leaves light as gadflies have all gone dark, gone black. And now in the dark my soul to you turns back. To you, my little darling, to you out of Italy, for what is loveliness, my love, save you have it with me? So there's an oxen wagon comes darkly into sight, a man with a lantern swinging a little light. What does he see, my darling, here by the darken lake? Here in the sloping shadow the mountains make. He says not a word but passes staring at what he sees. What ghost of us both do you think he saw under the olive trees? All the things that are lovely, the things you never knew, I wanted to gather them one by one and bring them to you. But never now, my darling, can I gather the mountain tips from the twilight like half-shut lilies to hold to your lips. And never the two-winged vessel that sleeps below on the lake can I catch like a moth between my hands for you to take. But hush, I am not regretting. It is far more perfect now. I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world and tell them how. I know you here in the darkness, how you sit in the throne of my eyes at peace and look out the windows in glad surprise. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Everlasting Flowers by D. H. Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by Squidrashlakova, found at Frisco-squid.blogspot.com. Who do you think stands a-watching the snow-tops shining rosy in heaven, now that the darkness ticks all but the tallest posy? Who then sees the two-winged boat down there, all alone, and asleep on the snow's last shadow, like a moth on a stone? The olive leaves, light as gadflies, have all gone dark, gone black. And now in the dark my soul to you turns back. To you, my little darling. To you, out of Italy, for what is loveliness, my love, save you have it with me. So there's nox and wagon comes darkly into sight. A man with a lantern swinging a little light. What does he see, my darling, here by the darkened lake, here in the sloping shadow the mountains make? He says not a word, but passes, staring at what he sees, but ghost of us both do you think he saw, under the olive trees? All the things that are lovely, the things you never knew, I wanted to gather them one by one and bring them to you, but never now, my darling, can I gather the mountain tips from the twilight like half-shut lilies to hold to your lips? And never, the two-winged vessel that sleeps below on the lake, can I catch like a moth between my hands for you to take, but hush, I am not regretting, it is far more perfect now. I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world and tell them how. I know you here in the darkness. How you sit in the throne of my eyes, at peace, and look out of the windows in glad surprise and of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Everlasting Flowers by D. H. Lawrence, read for LibriVox.org by Y. Z. Sterling. Who do you think stands watching the snow-tops shining rosy in heaven, now that the darkness takes all but the tallest posy? Who then sees the two-winged boat down there all alone and asleep on the snow's last shadow like a moth on a stone? To olive leaves light as gadflies have all gone dark, gone black, and now in the dark my soul to you turns back. To you, my little darling, to you out of Italy, for what is loveliness my love save you have it with me? So there's an oxen wagon comes darkly into sight, a man with a lantern swinging a little light. What does he see, my darling, here by the darkened lake, here in the sloping shadow the mountains make? He says not a word but passes, staring at what he sees. What ghosts of us both do you think he saw under the olive trees? All the things that are lovely, the things you never knew, I wanted to gather them one by one and bring them to you. But never now, my darling, can I gather the mountain-tips from the twilight like half-shut lilies to hold your lips, and never the two-winged vessel that sleeps below on the lake can I catch like a moth between my hands for you to take. But hush, I am not regretting, it is far more perfect now. I'll whisper the ghostly truth to the world and tell them how. I know you hear in the darkness how you sit in the throne of my eyes at peace and look out of the windows in glad surprise. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain.