 ATTLESTROP by Edward Thomas RedFearlyBrivox.org by Alan Davis Drake Yes, I remember Attle's Strop, the name, because one afternoon of heat the express train drew up there unwantedly. It was late June. The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. No one left, and no one came on the Bayer Platform. What I saw was Attle's Strop, only the name, and willows, willow herb and grass, and meadow sweet and haycocks dry. No wit, less still and lonely fare, than the high cloudlets in the sky. And for that minute a blackbird sang close by, and round him, misty-er, father-and-father, all the birds of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. ATTLESTROP by Edward Thomas RedFearlyBrivox.org by Anthony Pasco Yes, I remember Attle's Strop, the name, because one afternoon of heat the express train drew up there unwantedly. It was late June. The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. No one left, and no one came on the Bayer Platform. What I saw was Attle's Strop, only the name, and willows, willow herb and grass, and meadow sweet and haycocks dry. No wit, less still and lonely fare, than the high cloudlets in the sky. And for that minute a blackbird sang close by, and round him, misty-er, father-and-father, all the birds of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. ATTLESTROP by Edward Thomas RedFearlyBrivox.org by Dana Meilinger in September 2009 Yes, I remember Attle's Strop, the name, because one afternoon of heat the express train drew up there unwantedly. It was late June. The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. No one left, and no one came on the Bayer Platform. What I saw was Attle's Strop, only the name, and willows, willow herb and grass, and meadow sweet and haycocks dry. No wit, less still and lonely fare, than the high cloudlets in the sky. And for that minute a blackbird sang close by, and round him, misty-er, father-and-father, all the birds of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. ATTLESTROP by Edward Thomas RedFearlyBrivox.org by David Lawrence Yes, I remember Attle's Strop, the name, because one afternoon of heat the express train pulled up there unwantedly. It was late June. The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. No one left, and no one came on the Bayer Platform. What I saw was Attle's Strop, only the name, and willows, willow herb and grass, and meadow sweet and haycocks dry. No wit, less still and lonely fare, than the high cloudlets in the sky. And for that minute a blackbird sang close by, and round him, misty-er, father-and-father, all the birds of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. ATTLESTROP by Edward Thomas RedFearlyBrivox.org by Jess Meeklor Yes, I remember Attle's Strop, the name, because one afternoon of heat the express train drew up there unwantedly. It was late June. The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. No one left, and no one came on the Bayer Platform. What I saw was Attle's Strop, only the name, and willows, willow herb and grass, and meadow sweet and haycocks dry. No wit, less still and lonely fare, than the high cloudlets in the sky. And for that minute a blackbird sang close by, and round him, misty-er, father-and-father, all the birds of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. ATTLESTROP by Edward Thomas RedFearlyBrivox.org by Raven Notation Yes, I remember Attle's Strop, the name, because one afternoon of heat the express train drew up there unwantedly. It was late June. The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. No one left, and no one came on the Bayer Platform. What I saw was Attle's Strop, only the name, and willows, willow herb and grass, and meadow sweet and haycocks dry. No wit, less still and lonely fare, than the high cloudlets in the sky. And for that minute a blackbird sang close by, and round him, misty-er, father-and-father, all the birds of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. ATTLESTROP by Edward Thomas RedFearlyBrivox.org by Trevor Porter, a.k.a. Dugutter, www.dugutterrecords.com Yes, I remember Attle's Strop, the name, because one afternoon of heat the express train drew up there unwantedly. It was late June. The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. No one left, and no one came on the Bayer Platform. What I saw was Attle's Strop, only the name, and willows, willow herb and grass, and meadow sweet and haycocks dry. No wit, less still and lonely fare, than the high cloudlets in the sky. And for that minute a blackbird sang close by, and round him, misty-er, father-and-father, all the birds of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.