 Spring, by Michael Fairlis Red for LibriVox.org by CalmDragon.net Hark how the merry daffodils fling golden music to the hills, and how the hill sent echoing down through windswept turf and moorland-brown, the murmurs of a thousand rills that mock the sound-bird's liquid trills. The hedge released from winter's frown, shoes jeweled branch and willow crowned, while all the earth with pleasure trills and dances with the daffodils. Out, out ye flowers, up and shout! Stay at winter's past and spring's about to lead your ranks in joyous route. To string the Hawthorne's milky pearls and gild the grass with seledine, to dress the catkin's tassled curls to twist the tendrils of the vine. She wakes the windflower from her sleep, and lights the woods with April's moon, the violets lift their heads to peep, the daisies brave the sun at noon. The gentle wind from out the west, toys with the lilac-pretty maids, ruffles the meadows furdant vest, and rings the bluebells in the glades. The ash-bud's changed their somber suit, the orchids blossom red and white. Promise of autumn's ripe fruit! When spring's voluptuousness has fled, awake, awake, O throstle sweet, and haste with all your choir to greet this queen who comes with wakening feet. This phone with grateful eyes salutes the sun to his paradise, then hastens down the dewy meads past where the herd contented feeds, past where the furrows hide the grain for harvesting of sun and rain. To where Dementor patient stands with longing lips and outstretched hands, until the dawning of one face, across the void of time and space, shall bring again her day of grace, rejoice o'erth, rejoice and sing. This is the promise of the spring, and this the world's remembering. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Spring by Michael Fairless RedPhilipRevox.org by Corey Samuel Hark how the merry daffodils, filling golden music to the hills, and how the hills send echoing down through windswept turf and moorland-brown, the murmurs of a thousand rills that mock the songbird's liquid trills. The hedge released from winter's frown shows jewelled branch and willow crown, while all the earth with pleasure trills, and dances with the daffodils. Out-out ye flowers, up and shout, stay at winter's past and springs about, to lead your ranks in joyous route, to string the hawthorn's milky pearls, and gild the grass with selendine, to dress the catkin's tassled curls, to twist the tendrils of the vine. She wakes the wind-flower from her sleep, and lights the woods with April's moon, the violets lift their heads to peep, the daisies brave the sun at noon. The gentle wind from out the west, toys with the lilac pretty-maids, ruffles the meadow's verdant vest, and rings the blue-bells in the glades. The ash-buds change their somber suit, the orchards blossom white and red, promise of autumn's riper-fruit, when spring's voluptuousness has flared. Awake! Awake! O'throssle sweet, and haste with all your choir to greet this queen who comes with awakening feet. Persephone, with grateful eyes, salutes the sun, to his paradise, then hastens down the dewy meads, past where the herd contented feeds, past where the furrows hide the grain, for harvesting of sun and rain, to where Demeter, patient, stands, with longing lips and outstretched hands, until the dawning of one face, across the void of time and space, shall bring again her day of grace. Rejoice, O' earth, rejoice and sing! This is the promise of the spring, and this the world's remembering. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Ring by Michael Phelis, read for LibriVox.org by Algie Pug, Perth, Western Australia. Hark how the merry daffodils fling golden music to the hills, and how the hills send echoing down through windswept turf and moorland brown the murmurs of a thousand rills that mocked the songbird's liquid trills. The hedge released from winter's frown shows jeweled brunch and willowed crown, while all the earth with pleasure trills and dances with the daffodils. Out out ye flowers, up and shout! Stayed winter's past, and springs about to lead your ranks in joyous rout, to string the hawthorn's milky pearls, and gild the grass with selendine, to dress the catkin's tassled curls, to twist the tendrils of the vine. She wakes the windflower from her sleep, and lights the woods with April's moon, the violets lift their heads to peep, the daisies brave the sun at noon. The gentle wind from out the west toys with the lilac pretty maids, ruffles the meadow's verdant vest, and rings the bluebells in the glades. The ashbud's changed their somber suit, the orchard's blossom white and red, promise of autumn's riper fruit, when spring's voluptuousness has fled. Awake, awake a throsal sweet, and haste with all your choir to greet this queen who comes with wakening feet. Persephone with grateful eyes salutes the sun, to his paradise, then hastens down the dewy meads, past where the herd contented feeds, past where the furrows hide the grain for harvesting of sun and rain, to where Demeter patient stands with longing lips and outstretched hands, until the dawning of one face across the void of time and space shall bring again her day of grace. Rejoice, O earth, rejoice and sing, this is the promise of the spring, and this the world's remembering. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Spring by Michael Fairlis Red for LibriVox.org by David Lawrence Hark, how the merry daffodils fling golden music to the hills, and how the hills send echoing down through windswept turf and whirling brown, the murmurs of a thousand rills that mock the songbird's liquid trills, the hedge released from winter's frown, shoes jeweled branch and willow crown, while all the earth with pleasure trills and dances with the daffodils. Out, outie flowers, up and shout, stayed winter's past and springs about to lead your ranks in joyous route, to string the hawthorn's milky pearls and gill the grass with sullendine, to dress the catkins' tassled curls, to twist the tendrils of the vine, she wakes the windflower from her sleep and lights the woods with April's moon, the violets lift their heads to peep, the daisies brave the sun at noon, the gentle wind from out the west toys with the lilac pretty maids, ruffles the meadows verdant vest and rings the bluebells in the glades, the ash buds change their somber suit, the orchards blossom white and red, promise of autumn's riper fruit, when spring's voluptuousness has fled, awake, awake, will throttle sweet, and haste with all your choir to greet this queen who comes with wakening feet. Presiphany, with grateful eyes, salutes the sun to his paradise, that hastens down the dewy meads, past where the herd contented feeds, past where the furrows hide the grain, for harvesting of sun and rain, to where Demeter, patient, stands with longing lips and outstretched hands, until the dawning of one face across the void of time and space, shall bring again her day of grace. Rejoice, O earth, rejoice and sing, this is the promise of the spring, and this the world's remembering. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Jewels branch and willow crown, while all the earth with pleasure drills, and dances with the daffodils. Out-out she flowers, up in shout-stayed winters, past and springs about, to lead your ranks in joyous route, to string the hawthorn's milky pearls, and gild the grass with selendine, to dress the catkin's tassel curls, to twist the tendrils of the vine. She wakes the wind-flower from her sleep, and lights the woods with April's moon. The violets lift their heads to peep. The daisies brave the sun at noon. The gentle wind from out the west toys with the lilac pretty maids, ruffles the meadows verdant vest, and rings the blue bells in the glades. The ash buds change their somber suit, the orchids blossom white and red. The promise of autumn's riper fruit, when spring's voluptuousness has fled. The wake-away goat, the rustle's sweet, and haste with all the quiet greet, the squean who comes with weakening feet. Persephone with grateful eyes, salutes the sun until paradise, then hastens down the dewy meads. Past where the herd, contented feeds. Past where the furrows hide the grain for harvesting of sun and rain. To where Demeter's patient stands, with longing lips and outstretched hands, until the dawning of one face, across the void of time and space, shall bring again her day of grace. Rejoice, O earth, rejoice and sing. This is the promise of the spring and this, the world's remembering. End of bone. This recording is in the public domain. Spring by Michael Fairlis Red for LibriVox.org by Lucy Perry Hark how the merry daffodils fling golden music to the hills, and how the hills send echoing down through windswept turf and moorland brown, the murmurs of a thousand rills that mock the songbird's liquid trails, the hedge released from winter's frown, shoe-stuelled branch and willow crown, while all the earth with pleasure trills, and dances with the daffodils. Out-out ye flowers, up and shout. Stade winter's past and springs about, to lead your ranks in joyous route, to string the hawthorn's milky pearls, and gild the grass with sullen dine, to dress the catkin's tassled curls, to twist the tendrils of the vine. She wakes the wind-flower from her sleep, and lights the woods with April's moon. The violets lift their heads to peep, the daisies brave, the sun at noon. The gentle wind from out the west, toys with the lilac-pretty maids, ruffles the meadow's verdant vest, and drinks the bluebells in the glades. The ashbirds change their somber suit, the orchards blossom, white and red, promise of autumn's drape of fruit, when spring's voluptuousness has fled. Awake, awake, o' throssal sweet, and haste with all your quiet a greet this queen who comes with wakening feet. Persephone, with grateful eyes, salutes the sun, tis paradise, then hastens down the dewy meads, past where the herd contented feeds, past where the furrows hide the grain, for harvesting of sun and rain, to where Demeter patient stands, with longing lips and outstretched hands. Until the dawning of one face, across the void of time and space, shall bring again her day of grace. Rejoice, O earth, rejoice and sing, this is the promise of the spring, and this the world's remembering. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The head's released from winter's frown, shows jeweled branch and willow crown, while all the earth with pleasure trills, and dances with the daffodils. Out-out ye flowers, up and shout, stayed winter's past and spring's about, to lead your ranks in joyous route, to string the Hawthorne's milky pearls, and gill the grass with selendine, to dress the catkins, tassled curls, to twist the tendrils of the vine. She wakes the windflower from her sleep, and lights the wood with April's moon. The violets lift their heads to peep, the daisies brave the sun at noon. The gentle wind from out the west, toys with the lilac-pretty maids, ruffles the meadow's verdant vest, and rings the bluebells in the glades. The ash-budged change their somber suit, the orchards blossom white and red, promise of autumn's riper fruit, when spring's voluptuousness has fled. Awake, awake, o'throssal sweet, and haste with all your choir to greet this queen, who comes with wakening feet. Then hastens down the dewy meads, past where the herd-contented feeds, past where the furrows hide the grain, for harvesting of sun and rain, to where Demeter patient stands, with longing lips and outstretched hands, until the dawning of one face, across the void of time and space, shall bring again her day of grace. Rejoice, O earth, rejoice and sing. This is the promise of the spring, and this the world's remembering. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Liquid trills. The hedge released from winter's frown, shoes jeweled branch and willowed crown, while all the earth, with pleasure trills, and dances with the dapper-dills. Out, out, knee-flowers, up and shout, stead winter's past and spring's about, to lead your ranks in joyous route, to string the Hawthorne's milky curls, and gills the grass with cellandine, to dress the catkin's tassled curls, to twist the tendrils of the vine. She wakes the windflower from her sleep, and lights the woods with April's moon, the violets lift their heads to peep, the daisies brave the sun at noon. The gentle wind from out the west, toys with the lilac pretty maize, ruffles the meadows verdant vest, and rings the bluebells in the glades. The ash-bloods change their sombre suit, the orchards blossom white and red, promise of autumn's ripe fruit, when spring's voluptuousness has fled. Awake, awake, O' Throssel, sweet, and haste with oil choir to greet this queen who comes with wakening feet. Persephone, with grateful eyes, salutes the sun to his paradise, then hastens down the dewy needs, past where the herd contented feeds, past where the furrows hide the grain, for harvesting of sun and rain. To where Demeter of Haitian stands, with longing lips and outstretched hands, until the dawning of one face, across the void of time and space, shall bring again her day of grace. Rejoice, O Earth, rejoice and sing, this is the promise of the spring, and this the world's remembering. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The hedge released from winter's frown shows dualed branch and willow crown, while all the earth with pleasure trills and dances with the daffodils. Out, out ye flowers, up and shout, stayed winter's past and spring's about to lead your ranks in joyous rout. To string the Hawthorne's milky pearls and gild the grass with selendine, to dress the catkin's tassled curls to twist the tendrils of the vine. She wakes the windflower from her sleep and lights the woods with April's moon. The violets lift their heads to peep, the daisies brave the sun at noon. The gentle wind from out the west toys with the lilac pretty maids, ruffles the meadows' verdant vest, and rings the bluebells in the glades. The ash buds change their somber suit, the orchards blossom white and red, promise of autumn's ripe fruit, when spring's voluptuousness has fled. Awake, awake, Othrosil sweet, and haste with all your choir to greet this queen who comes with wakening feet. Persephone with grateful eyes salutes the sun, tis paradise. Then hastens down the dewy meads, past where the herd contented feeds, past where the furrows hide the grain, for harvesting of sun and rain, to where demeanor patience stands, with longing lips and outstretched hands, until the donning of one face across the void of time and space shall bring again her day of grace. Rejoice, O earth, rejoice and sing, this is the promise of the spring, and this the world's remembering. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.