 Endimion, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, read for LibriVox.org by Bruce Kachok. The rising moon has hid the stars, her level rays, like golden bars, lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between, and silver-white the river gleams, as if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bow, upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, she woke Endimion, with a kiss, when sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, love gives itself, but is not bought, nor voice, nor sound betrays, its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the bows whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him whose slumbering lies. Oh weary hearts, oh slumbering eyes, oh drooping souls whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, ye shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own, responds as if with unseen wings, an angel touched its quivering strings, and whispers in its song, where hast thou stayed so long? Red for Libervox.org by Christopher Hoving The rising moon has hid the stars, her level rays like golden bars, lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between, and silver white the river gleams as if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bow upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, she woke in Demian with a kiss, when sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, love gives itself, but is not bought, nor voice, nor sound betrays its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone to seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs whose shadows deep, our life's oblivion, the souls sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him whose slumbering lies. O weary hearts, O slumbering eyes, O drooping souls whose destinies, are fraught with fear and pain, ye shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own, responds, as if with unseen wings an angel touched its quivering strings and whispers in its song, where hast thou stayed so long? The rising moon has hid the stars, her level rays, like golden bars, lie on the landscape green with shadows brown between, and silver white the river gleams, as if Diana in her dreams had dropped her silver bow upon the meadow's low. On such a tranquil night as this she woke in Demian with a kiss, when sleeping in the grove he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, love gives itself but is not bought. Her voice, nor sound betrays, it's deep in passion gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone to seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, the souls sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him whose slumbering lies. O weary hearts, O slumbering eyes, O drooping souls whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, you shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own. Responds as if with unseen wings, a breath from heaven attached to strings, and whispers in its song, where hast thou stayed so long? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Endie Mayan by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, read for LibriVox.org by Campbell Shoup. The rising moon has hit the stars, her level rays, like golden bars, lie on the landscape green with shadows brown between, and silver-white the river gleams as if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bow upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, she woke Endie Mayan with a kiss, when sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, love gives itself, but is not bought, her voice nor sound betrays, its deep impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him whose slumbering lies. O weary hearts, o slumbering eyes, o drooping souls whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, ye shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own. Responds as if with unseen wings, a breath from heaven had touched its strings and whispers in its song, where hast thou stayed so long? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. With shadows brown between, and silver white the river gleams, as if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bowl upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this she woke edemian with a kiss, when, sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, love gives itself but is not bought, nor voice nor sound betrays its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs whose shadows deep, and life's oblivion, the soul's sleep. And kisses the closed eyes of him whose slumbering lies. O weary hearts, O slumbering eyes, O drooping souls, whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, he shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own. Responds, as if with unseen wings, an angel touched its quivering strings, and whispers in its song, were hast thou stayed so long? In deform, this recording is in the public domain. Her level rays, like golden bars, lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between. And silver-white the river gleams, as if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bow upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, she woke in dimion with a kiss, when, sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, love gives itself, but is not bought. Nor voice, nor sound betrays its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the bows, whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, for souls sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him, whose slumbering lies, weary hearts, oh slumbering eyes, oh drooping souls, whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, ye shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own. Responds, as if with unseen wings an angel touched its quivering strings, and whispers in its song, where hast thou stayed so long? End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Andimion, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, read for Libberfox.org by Phonem. The rising moon has hid the stars, her level rays, like golden bars, lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between, and silver white the river gleams, as if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bow upon the meadow's low. On such a tranquil night as this, she woke Andimion with a kiss, when, sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diana's kiss, unasked, unsought, love gives itself, but is not bought, nor voice nor sound betrays its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the bells, whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him, who slumbering lies. Oh, wary hearts, oh, slumbering eyes, Oh, drooping souls, whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, yet shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, no unknown, responds unto his own. Responds, as if with unseen wings, an angel touched its quivering strings, and whispers in its song, Where has thou stayed so long? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Golden bars lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between, and silver-white the river gleams, as if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bow upon the meadow slow. On such a tranquil night as this, she woke in Demian with a kiss, when, sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love, like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, love gives itself, but is not bought, nor voice nor sound betrays its deep and passion gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the bows, whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him, whose slumbering lies. Oh, weary hearts, oh, slumbering eyes, oh, drooping souls, whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, he shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own, responds, as if with unseen wings an angel touched its quivering strings, and whispers in its song, Where has thou stayed so long? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The rising moon has hid the stars, her level rays, like golden bars, lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between, and silver white the river gleams, as if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bow upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, she woke Endymion with a kiss. When sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, love gives itself, but is not bought. Nor voice nor sound betrays, its deep impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the bows, whose shadows deep, our life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, and kisses the closed eyes, of him who slumbering lies. O weary hearts, o slumbering eyes, o drooping souls, whose destinies, are fraught with fear and pain, ye shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own, responds as if with unseen wings, an angel touched its quivering strings, and whispers in its song, where hast thou stayed so long? End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Endymion by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow read for LibriVox.org by Graham Scott Cheltenham, England. The rising moon has hid the stars, her level rays like golden bars lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between. And silver white the river gleams, as if Diana in her dreams had dropped her silver bow upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, she woke Endymion with a kiss, when, sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss unasked, unsought, love gives itself, but is not bought, nor voice nor sound betrays its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the bows, whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him, whose slumbering lies. Oh weary hearts, oh slumbering eyes, oh drooping souls whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, ye shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own. Responds, as if with unseen wings an angel touched its quivering strings and whispers in its song, where hast thou stayed so long? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Level rays, like golden bars, lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between. And silver white, the river gleams, as if Diana and her dreams had dropped her silver bow upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, she woke endymion with a kiss, when, sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss unasked, unsought, love gives itself but is not bought. Her voice nor sound betrays its deep impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him who slumbering lies. Oh weary hearts, oh slumbering eyes, oh drooping souls whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, ye shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate. But some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own. Responds, as if with unseen wings, a breath from heaven had touched its strings, and whispers in its song, Where hast thou stayed so long? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. In Dimion, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, red for Librebox.org by Josh Kibbey. The rising moon has hid the stars. Her level rays, like golden bars, lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between. And silver white the river gleams, as if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bow upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this she woken Dimion with a kiss, when, sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, love gives itself, but is not bought. Her voice nor sound betrays its deep and passionate gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone to seek the elected one. It lifts the bows whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him, whose slumbering lies. Oh, weary hearts, oh, slumbering eyes, oh, drooping souls whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, ye shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds into his own. Responds, as if with unseen wings, a breath from heaven had touched its strings, and whispers in its song, Where has thou stayed so long? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Indimion by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Red for LibriVox.org by Larry Wilson The rising moon has hid the stars. Her level rays, like golden bars, lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between. As silver white the river gleams, as if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bowl upon the meadow's low. On such a tranquil night as this, she woke Indimion with a kiss, was sleeping in the grove he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked and sought, love gives itself, but is not bought. Her voice nor sound betrays its deep impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone to seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him, whose slumbering lies. Oh weary hearts, oh slumbering eyes, oh drooping souls whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, ye shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own. Responds, as if with unseen wings, a breath from heaven had touched its strings, and whispers in its song, Where has thou stayed so long? In the poil, this recording is in the public domain. Indimion by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Read Frillibervox.org by Michelle Frye, Benridge, Louisiana. The rising moon has hid the stars. Her level rays, like golden bars, lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between. And silver-white the river gleams, as if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bow upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, she woke Indimion with a kiss. When sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, love gives itself, but is not bought. Nor voice, nor sound betrays its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, in silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the bows, whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him, who slumbering lies. Oh weary hearts, oh slumbering eyes, oh drooping souls, whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, ye shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own. Responds, as if with unseen wings, an angel touched its quivering strings and whispers in its song, Where hast thou stayed so long? And of poem this recording is in the public domain. And Jimin, by Harry What's Worth's Long Fellow, read for LibriVox.org by Maya. The rising moon has hit the stars, her lava rays like golden bars, Lion landscaped green with shadows brown between, And silver white the river gleams, As if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bowl upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, she walked in Jimin with a kiss. When sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love, Like Diane's kiss, an asked assault. Love gives itself, but is not bought. Nor voice nor sound betrays its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes to beautiful the free, the crown of all humanity, And silence and alone to seek the elected one. It lifts the bow whose shadows deep, Our life's oblivion to souls sleep, And kisses the closer eyes of him whose lumbering lies. All weary hearts, all slumbering eyes, All drooping souls, whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain. Ye shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate, but some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own. Responds, as if with unseen wings, an angel touched its quivering strings, And whispers in its song, Where has thou stayed so long? And of poem. This recording isn't a public domain. Andimian by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Red for LibriVox.org by Phil Schempf The rising moon has hid the stars. Her level rays, like golden bars, Lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between, And silver-white the river gleams, As if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bow upon the meadow's low. On such a tranquil night as this, she woke and Dimian with a kiss. When sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought, Love gives itself, but is not bought. Nor boys, nor sound betrays its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, the crown of all humanity, In silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the bows whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, The soul's sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him who slumbering lies. O weary hearts, O slumbering eyes, O drooping souls, Whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, He shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, But some heart, the one known, responds unto his own. Responds, as if with unseen wings, An angel touched its quivering strings, and whispers in its song, Where hast thou stayed so long? End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Endymion by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Read for LibriVox.org by Scotty Smith The rising moon has hid the stars, Her level rays, like golden bars, Lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between, And silver-white the river gleams, As if Diana in her dreams had dropped her silver bow upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, She woken Demian with a kiss, When sleeping in the grove he dreamed not of her love. Like Dian's kiss unasked, unsought, Love gives itself, but is not bought, Her voice, nor sound, betrays its deep and passioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, The crown of all humanity, In silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs whose shadows deep, Are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, And kisses the closed eyes of him, who slumbering lies. Oh, weary hearts, oh, slumbering eyes, Oh, drooping souls whose destinies Are fraught with fear and pain, ye shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate. But some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own, responds, as if with unseen wings a breath from heaven Had touched its strings and whispers in its song. Where has thou stayed so long? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Her level rays, like golden bars, Lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between. And silver white the river gleams, As if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bow Upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, She woke endymion with a kiss, When, sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, Love gives itself, but is not bought. Nor voice, nor sound betrays its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, The crown of all humanity, In silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep are life's oblivion, The soul's sleep, and kisses the closed eyes of him, Whose slumbering lies. Her weary hearts, oh, slumbering eyes, Oh, drooping souls, whose destinies are fraught with fear and pain, He shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, no one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own. Responds, as if with unseen wings, An angel touched its quivering strings, And whispers in its song, Where has thou stayed so long? End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. In Dimion, by Henry Woodworth, a long fellow, Read for LibberVox.org, by William Jones. The rising moon has hid the stars, Her level rays, like golden bars, Lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between, And silver white, the river gleams, As if Diana, in her dreams, had dropped her silver bow Upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, She woke in Dimion with a kiss, When sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, Love gives itself, but is not bought. Her voice nor sound betrays its deep impassioned gaze. It comes, the beautiful, the free, The crown of all humanity, in silence and alone, To seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep Are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, And kisses the closed eyes of him, whose slumbering lies. O weary hearts, O slumbering eyes, O drooping souls, whose destinies Are fraught with fear and pain, You shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly dazzled it, But some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own. Responds, as if with unsane wings, A breath from heaven had touched its strings And whispers in its song, Where hath thou stayed so long? So long! In de form, this recording is in the public domain. In Dimion, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Read for LibriVox.org by Wynn Stuart. The rising moon has hid the stars, Her level rays like golden bars, Lie on the landscape green, with shadows brown between, And silver-white the river gleams, As if Diana, in her dreams, Had dropped her silver bow upon the meadows low. On such a tranquil night as this, She woke in Dimion with a kiss. When sleeping in the grove, he dreamed not of her love. Like Diane's kiss, unasked, unsought, Love gives itself, but is not bought. Her voice nor sound betrays its deep, impassioned gaze. It comes the beautiful, the free, The crown of all humanity, In silence and alone, to seek the elected one. It lifts the boughs whose shadows deep, Are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep, And kisses the closed eyes of him whose slumbering lies. O weary hearts, o slumbering eyes, O drooping souls, whose destinies Are fraught with fear and pain, he shall be loved again. No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, responds unto his own. Responds, as if with unseen wings, A breath from heaven had touched its strings. And whispers in its song, Where hast thou stayed so long? End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.