 The hour of twilight by George William Russell, read for LibriVox.org by Alan Davis Drake. When the unquiet hours depart, and far away their tummelt cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day, for angry deed or sin of sense of now, is the star and homeward ray to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain, and find a secret sweet in them. The thorns, once dipped with shadowy rain, are bright upon each diadem. Ceases the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin. The mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. No riotous and fairy song allures the prodigals who bow within the home of law, and throng before the mystic father now. Where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from out ancestral spheres, beckon the wounded spirit in. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Hour of Twilight by George William Russell. Read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. When the unquiet hours depart, and far away their tummelt cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day for angry deed or sin of sense, now is the star and homeward gray to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain, and find a secret sweet in them. The thorns, once dipped with shadowy rain, are bright upon each diadem. Ceases the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin. The mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. No riotous and fairy song allures the prodigals who bow within the home of law, and throng before the mystic father now. Where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning out from ancestral spheres, beckon the wounded spirit in. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. The Hour of Twilight by George William Russell, read for LibriVox.org by Ernst Schnell. When the unquiet hours depart, and far away their tummelt cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day for angry deed or sin of sense, now is the star and homeward ray to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain and find a secret sweet in them. The thorns, once dipped with shadowy rain, are bright upon each diadem. Ceases the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin. The mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. No riotous and fairy song allures the prodigals who bow within the home of law, and throng before the mystic father now. Where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from out ancestral spheres, beckon the wounded spirit in. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. The Hour of Dwilight by George William Russell, Redvillie Brevox.org by Gemma Blythe When the unquiet hours depart and far away their tummelt cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day for angry deed or sin of sense, now is the star and homeward ray, to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone bane and find a secret sweeten them. The thorns, once stripped with shadowy rain, are bright upon each diadem. Ceases the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin. The mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. Our riot is in very song, allures the particles who bow within the home of law, and throng before the mystic father now, where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from out ancestral spheres, beckon the wounded spirit in. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. The Hour of Twilight by George William Russell, read from Librebox.org by J. C. Guan, Montreal, November 2007. When the unquiet hours depart, and far away their tummelt cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day for angry deed or sin of sense, now is the star and homeward ray to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain, and find the secrets sweet in them. The thorns, once stripped with shadowy rain, are bright upon each diadem. Ceases the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin. The mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. The riotous and fairy song alers the prodigals who bow within the home of law and throng before the mystic father now, where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from out ancestral spheres, beckon the wounded spirit in. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. The Hour of Twilight by George William Russell, read for LibriVox.org by James Gladwin, Somerset November 2007. When the unquiet hours depart, and far away their tummelt cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day for angry deed or sin of sense, now is the star and homeward ray to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain and find a secret sweet in them. The thorns, once stripped with shadowy rain, are bright upon each diadem. Is the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin, the mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. No riotous and fairy song alers the prodigals who bow within the home of law and throng before the mystic father now, where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from out ancestral spheres, beckon the wounded spirit in. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The hour of Twilight by George William Russell, read for LibriVox.org by John Friend. When the unquiet hours depart, and far away their tummelt cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day, for angry deed or sin of sins, now is the star and homeward ray, to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain and find a secret sweet in them. The thorns, once stripped with shadowy rain, are bright upon each diadem. Ceases the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin. The mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. The riotous and very song allures the prodigals who bow within the home of law and throng before the mystic father now, where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from out ancestral spheres beckon the wounded spirit in. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Hour of Twilight by George William Russell, read for LibriVox.org by Jake Echo. When the unquiet hours depart and far away their tummelt cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day, for angry deed or sin of sins, now is the star and homeward ray, to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain and find a secret sweet in them. The thorns once dripped with shadowy rain are bright upon each diadem. Ceases the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin. The mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. No riotous and very song allures the prodigals who bow within the home of law and throng before the mystic father now, where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from outer ancestral spheres back in the wounded spirit in. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Hour of Twilight by George William Russell, read for LibriVox.org by Katie Gibbany, Arkansas November 2007. In the unquiet hours depart and far away their tumult cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day, for angry deed or sin of sins, now is the star and homeward ray, to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain and find a secret sweet in them. The thorns once dripped with shadowy rain are bright upon each diadem. Ceases the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin, the mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. No riotous and very song allures the prodigals who bow within the home of law and throng before the mystic father now, where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from out ancestral spheres, beckon the wounded spirit in. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. The Hour of Twilight by George William Russell, read for LibriVox.org by Kristen Hughes, when the unquiet hours depart and far away their tumult cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day, for angry deed or sin of sense, now is the star and homeward ray, to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain and find a secret sweet in them. The thorns once dripped with shadowy rain are bright upon each diadem. Ceases the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin, the mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. No riotous and very song allures the prodigals who bow within the home of law and throng before the mystic father now, where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from out ancestral spheres beckon the wounded spirit in. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. The Hour of Twilight by George William Russell, read for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett, When the unquiet hours depart and far away their tumult cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day, for angry deed or sin of sense, now is the star and homeward ray, to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain and find a secret sweet in them. The thorns once dripped with shadowy rain are bright upon each diadem. Ceases the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin. The mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. No riotous and very song allures the prodigals who bow within the home of law and throng before the mystic father now, where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from out ancestral spheres, beckon the wounded spirit in. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Hour of Twilight by George William Russell, read for LibriVox.org by Mike Love. When the unquiet hours depart and far away their tumult cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day, for angry deed or sin of sense, now is the star and homeward ray to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain and find a secret sweet in them. The thorns once dripped with shadowy rain are bright upon each diadem. Ceases the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin. The mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. No riotous and fairy song allures the prodigals who bow within the home of law and throng before the mystic father now, where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from out ancestral spheres, beckon the wounded spirit in. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Hour of Twilight by George William Russell, read for LibriVox.org by Melissa, November 2007. When the unquiet hours depart and far away their tumult cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day, for angry deed or sin of sense, now is the star and homeward ray to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain and find a secret sweet in them. The thorns once stripped with shadowy rain are bright upon each diadem. Ceases the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin. The mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. No riotous and fairy song allures the prodigals who bow within the home of law and throng before the mystic father now, where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from out ancestral spheres beckon the wounded spirit in. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Hour of Twilight by George William Russell, read for LibriVox.org by Sean McGahey, ductapeguy.net. When the unquiet hours depart and far away their tumult cease, within the twilight of the heart we bathe in peace, are stilled with peace. The fire that slew us through the day, for angry deed or sin of sense, now is the star and homeward ray to us who bow in penitence. We kiss the lips of bygone pain and find a secret sweet in them. The thorns once stripped with shadowy rain and bright upon each diadem. This is the old pathetic strife, the struggle with the scarlet sin, the mad enchanted laugh of life tempts not the soul that sees within. No riotous and fairy song allures the prodigals who bow within the home of law and throng before the mystic father now, where faces of the elder years, high souls absolved from grief and sin, leaning from out ancestral spheres beckon the wounded spirit in. End of