 I listen to the stillness of you, my dear among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them in thrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath. That silence should take the song and the bird, and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam-flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence, alongside going. And off the forge of the world, whirling in the draft of life, go sparks of myriad people, filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness, or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Listening. By D.H. Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by Anna Roberts. Listening. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them in thrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath. That silence should take the song and the bird, and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam-flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence, alongside going. And off the forge of the world, whirling in the draught of life, go sparks of myriad people, filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness, or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Listening. By D.H. Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by Angie Taylor. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them in thrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath. That silence should take the song and the bird, and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence, alongside going. And off the forge of the world, whirling in the draught of life, go sparks of myriad people, filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness, or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. World of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Listening. By D.H. Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by Carol Stripling. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them in thrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath. That silence should take the song and the bird, and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence, alongside going. And off the forge of the world whirling in the draft of life, go sparks of myriad people, filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness, or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Read for LibriVox.org by David Federman. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them in thrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath. That silence should take the song and the bird, and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence, alongside going. And off the forge of the world whirling in the draft of life, go sparks of myriad people, filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness, or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Listening by DH Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by David. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them in thrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath. That silence should take the song and the bird, and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence, alongside going. And off the forge of the world, whirling in the draft of life, go sparks of myriad people, filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness, or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. This recording is in the public domain. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them in thrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath. That silence should take the song and the bird, and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence, alongside going. And off the forge of the world, whirling in the draft of life, go sparks of myriad people, filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness, or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them in thrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath. That silence should take the song and the bird, and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence, alongside going. And off the forge of the world, whirling in the draft of life, go sparks of myriad people, filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness, or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath. That silence should take the song and the bird, and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence, alongside going. And off the forge of the world, whirling in the draft of life, go sparks of myriad people, filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness, or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Listening by D. H. Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by Catherine Oliver. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear, among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them enthrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am loath. The silence should take the song and the bird, and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence, alongside going. And off the forge of the world, whirling in the draft of light, go sparks of myriad people, filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness, or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Listening by D. H. Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear, among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them enthrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath that silence should take the song and the bird, and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence, alongside going. And off the forge of the world, whirling in the draft of life, go sparks of myriad people filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness, or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Listening by D. H. Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by Rhonda Federman. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear, among it all. My dear, among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them enthrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath that silence should take the song and the bird and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence alongside going. And off the forge of the world, whirling in the draft of life, go sparks of myriad people filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Listening by D. H. Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by Raven Notation. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear, among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them enthrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath that silence should take the song and the bird and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence alongside going. And off the forge in the world, whirling in the draft of life, go sparks of myriad people filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Listening by D. H. Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by Secrets. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear, among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them enthrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath. That silence should take the song and the bird and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence alongside going. And off the forge of the world, whirling in the draft of life, go sparks of myriad people filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Listening by D. H. Lawrence. Read for LibriVox.org by Sarah Jennings. I listen to the stillness of you, my dear, among it all. I feel your silence touch my words as I talk, and take them enthrall. My words fly off a forge, the length of a spark. I see the night sky easily sip them up in the dark. The lark sings loud and glad, yet I am not loath. That silence should take the song and the bird and lose them both. A train goes roaring south, the steam flag flying. I see the stealthy shadow of silence alongside going. And off the forge of the world, whirling in the draft of life, go sparks of myriad people filling the night with strife. Yet they never change the darkness or blench it with noise. Alone on the perfect silence, the stars are buoys. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.