 9 is by Percy Bish-Shelly, read for www.lurefox.org by Christian Clark. The cold air sweats below as the cold sky is shown, and all around was a chilling sound from caves of ice and fields of snow. The breaths of night like death did flow, meaning system king moon. The wintery hedge was black, the green grass was not seen, the birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast, whose roots, besides the pathway track, had bound their folds over many a crack which a frost had made between. Nine eyes glowed in the glare of the moonshine light as a fan fires beams on like a string gleamed simile, so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy graven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night that shed on thy dear head, its frozen dew doused its light where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Lines by Percy Bish Shelley, read for LibberVox.org by CalmDragon.net. The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone, and all around was a chilling sound from caves of ice and fields of snow the breath of night like death did flow beneath the seeking moon. The wintry hedge was black, the green grass was not seen. The birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast whose roots, beside the pathway track, had bound their folds or many a crack which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light. As a Fenfair's beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew and thou disly, where the winter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Lines by Percy Bish Shelley, read for LibberVox.org by David Lawrence. The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone, and all around, with a chilling sound from caves of ice and fields of snow, the breath of night like death did flow beneath the sinking moon. The wintry hedge was black, the green grass was not seen. The birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast whose roots, beside the pathway track, had bound their folds or many a crack which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light, as a Fenfair's beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew, and now did'st lie where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Lines by Percy Bish Shelley, read for LibberVox.org by Glenn Kirsten. The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone, and all around, with a chilling sound, from caves of ice and fields of snow, the breath of night like death did flow beneath the sinking moon. The wintry hedge was black, the green grass was not seen. The birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast whose roots, beside the pathway track, had bound their folds, or many a crack which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light, as a fen fires beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew, and thou didst lie where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Lines by Percy Bish Shelley, read for LibberVox.org by John Clark. The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone, and all around, with a chilling sound, the caves of ice and fields of snow, the breath of night like death did flow beneath this in-king moon. The wintry hedge was black, and green grass was not seen, whose birds did rust on bare thorn's breast, whose roots, besides the pathway track, had bound their folds, or many a crack which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light, the fen's fire beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair, and it shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew, and thou didst lie where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Lines by Percy Beishie Shelley Read for LibriVox.org by Lucy Perry The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone, and all around with a chilling sound, from caves of ice and fields of snow, the breath of night like death did flow beneath the sinking moon. The wintry hedge was black, the green grass was not seen, the birds did rust on the bare thorn's breast, whose roots beside the pathway-track had bound their folds over many a crack, which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light, as a fen's fire beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew, and thou did sly where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Lines by Percy Beishie Shelley Read for LibriVox.org by Linda Lee Paquette The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone, and all around with a chilling sound, from caves of ice and fields of snow, the breath of night like death did flow beneath the sinking moon. The wintry hedge was black, the green grass was not seen, the birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast, whose roots beside the pathway-track had bound their folds over many a crack which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light, as a fan-fire's beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew, and thou did'st lie where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. The moon's sky shone, and all around, with a chilling sound, from caves of ice and fields of snow, the breath of night like death did flow beneath the sinking moon. The wintry hedge was black, the green grass was not seen, the birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast, whose roots beside the pathway-track had bound their folds over many a crack which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light, as a fen fire's beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew, and thou did'st lie where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Lines by Percy Bish Shelley www.wetfordliberbox.org The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone, and all around, with a chilling sound, from caves of ice and fields of snow, the breath of night like dead did flow beneath the sinking moon. The wintry hedge was black, the green grass was not seen, the birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast, whose roots beside the pathway-track had bound their folds over many a crack, which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light, as a fan-fire's beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew, and thou did sly where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. The wintry hedge was black, the green grass was not seen, the birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast, whose roots beside the pathway-track had bound their folds over many a crack, which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light, as a fan-fire's beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew, and thou did sly where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone, and all around with a chilling sound from caves of ice and fields of snow, the breath of night like death did flow. The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone, and all around with a chilling sound from caves of ice and fields of snow, did flow beneath the sinking moon. The wintry hedge was black, the green grass was not seen, the birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast, whose roots, beside the pathway-track, had bound their folds or many a crack which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light, as a fenfires beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew, and thou didst lie where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone, and all around with a chilling sound, from caves of ice and fields of snow, the breath of night like death did flow beneath the sinking moon. The wintry hedge was black, the green grass was not seen, the birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast, whose roots, beside the pathway-track, had bound their faults o'er many a crack which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light, as a fenfires beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew, and thou didst lie where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone, and all around with a chilling sound, from the caves of ice and fields of snow, the breath of night like death did flow beneath the sinking moon. The wintry hedge was black, the green grass was not seen, the birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast, whose roots, beside the pathway-track, had bound their faults o'er many a crack which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light, the fenfires beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew, and thou didst lie where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will. The cold earth slept below, above the cold sky shone, and all around with a chilling sound, from caves of ice and fields of snow, the breath of night like death did flow beneath the sinking moon. The wintry hedge was black, the green grass was not seen, the birds did rest on the bare thorn's breast, whose roots, beside the pathway-track, had bound their faults o'er many a crack which the frost had made between. Thine eyes glowed in the glare of the moon's dying light, as a fenfires beam on a sluggish stream gleams dimly, so the moon shone there, and it yellowed the strings of thy raven hair that shook in the wind of night. The moon made thy lips pale, beloved, the wind made thy bosom chill, the night did shed on thy dear head its frozen dew, and now didst lie where the bitter breath of the naked sky might visit thee at will.