 Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Chuck Charlson I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes and snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound I went till there were no cottages found. I toined and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but there was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation, by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. And upon this recording is in a public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Alan Davis Drake I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes and snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation, by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. And of poem this recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Andy Monroe I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation, by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. End of poem this recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Ankeela I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I had no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation, by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. End of poem this recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Anna Simon I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation, by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. End of poem this recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Brian Lee Rosso September 12, 2007 I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented. Just coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation, by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Caliban I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented. Coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation, by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Clarica I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation, by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Cricket I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation, by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by DailyBab I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back. I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation, by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Daniel O'Brien I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back. I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation, by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by David Barnes I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back. I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation, by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by David Best I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back. I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Esther I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock of a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Anst Schnell Recorded in Aberdeen, Scotland on the 10th of September 2007. I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Eswa I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by John Gonzales www.jongon.com I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented. Coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by Gemma Blythe I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented. But coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by J.C. Guant Montreal, September 2007 I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented. But coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by J.C. Gladwin, Somerset, England I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented. But coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org by J.C. Gladwin, Somerset, England Hemingway, South Carolina I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented. But coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Red for LibriVox.org On Monday, September 10th, 2007, in Monticello, Minnesota by Jennifer Rowan www.jrownitz.blogspot.com I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned, and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by J. M. Smallhair I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned, and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Kristen Hughes I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Leanne Howlett I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by ML Cohen MojoMove411.com, Cleveland, Ohio, September 2007 I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had the glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by ML. I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like a profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by ML. I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like a profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by ML. I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like a profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Paul Santagata. I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like a profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Rob Sigum Paglia. September 2007, Norwalk, Connecticut. www.robertpaglia.com I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like a profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Robert Scott MojoMove411.com September 9, 2007 I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like a profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Isabella Denton I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like a profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Stevie I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like a profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Sean McGahey ducktapeguy.net I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like a profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Sean McGahey I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Ted Doolittle www.thedoolittles.us slash ted.htm I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Teresa Montgomery September 10, 2007 I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Valerie Gordon-Walker I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound. I went till there were no cottages found. I turned and repented, but coming back I saw no window, but that was black. Over the snow my creaking feet disturbed the slumbering village street, like profanation by your leave at ten o'clock on a winter's eve. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Good Hours by Robert Frost Read for LibriVox.org by Van Rose I had for my winter evening walk, no one at all with whom to talk, but I had the cottages in a row up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within. I had the sound of a violin. I had a glimpse through curtain laces of youthful forms and youthful faces. I had such company outward bound.