Rose and Roof-Tree by George Parsons LATHROP read by Various | Full Audio Book

rose and roof tree by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Noel patreon Oh wayward rose why does the wreath so high wasting thyself in sweet breath to ecstasy the pulses of the wind my life uplift and through my sprays I feel the sunlight shift and all my fibers in a quick consent entwined aspire to fill their heavenward bent I feel the shaking of the far-off sea and all things growing blend their life with me when men and women on me look their glows within my veins a life not of the Rose then let me grow until I touch the sky and let me grow and grow until I die so every year the sweet Rose shooteth higher and scales the roof Rippon its wings of fire and pricks the air in lovely discontent with thorns that questions still of its intent but when it reached the roof tree there it clung nor ever farther up its blossoms flung OH wayward Rose why hast thou seest to climb has thou forgot the order of thy prime o Hawken thus the Rose pray listening with what weird news excite these full hearts ring what many ripples of deep-eddying sound rise touch the roof tree old and drift around bearing aloft the burden musical of joys and griefs from human hearts that fall green stem and fair flushed circle I will lay along the roof and listen here alway for Rose and tree and every leafy growth that toward the sky unfolds with Spira blows no purpose hath save this to breathe the grace or men and in men's hearts to seek a place therefore o poet thou who gave us to me the homage of thy humble sympathy no longer vest diverse in rose leaves frail let the hearts voice loud through thy pay and wail low at my feet the wind of autumn throws a hundred turbulent blossoms of the Rose full of the voices of the sea and Grove and air and full of hidden murmured love and warmed with passion through the roof tree scent do drenched with tears all in one wild gush spent end of poem this recording is in the public domain music of growth by George Parsons Lathrop rent for by Noel bade rien music is in all growing things and underneath the silky wings of smallest insects there is stirred a pulse of air that must be heard Earth silenced lives and strobes and sings if poet from the vibrant strings of his poor heart a measure flings laughs not that he no trumpet blows it may be then heaven hears and knows his language of low listenings end of poem this recording is in the public domain a song long ago by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Noah patreon through the pauses of thy fervid singing fell crystal sound that thy fingers from the keys were flinging lightly around I felt the vine like harmonies close clinging about my soul and to my eyes as fruit of their sweet bringing the full tear stole end of poem this recording is in the public domain men Culley by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Noel patreon daughter of my nobler hope that dying gave the birth sweet melancholy for memory of the dead in her dear stead by thou with me sweet melancholy as purple shadows to the tree when the last sunrays sadly sloped athwart the bare and darkening earth art thou to me sweet melancholy end of poem this recording is in the public domain contentment by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Noah patreon glad hours have been when I have seen life's scope and each dry days intent united so that I could stand in silence covering with my hand the circle of the universe balance the blessing and the curse and trust in deeds without chagrin free from tomorrow and yesterday content end of poem this recording is in the public domain April aria by George Parsons Lathrop read for by April six zero nine zero in California in April Aria when the mornings Dinkley fall with the dim forethought of brain and the Robbins richly call to their mates mercury oh and the tree boughs creak and strained in the wind when the rivers rough with foam and the new-made clearing smoke and the clouds that go and come shine and darken frolicsome and the frogs that evening croak undefined mysteries of monotone and by melting beds of snow wind flowers blossom all alone then I know that the bitter winters dead over his head the damp sod breaks so mellow its mosses tipped with points of yellow I cannot but be glad yet the sweet mood will borrow something of a sweeter sorrow to touch and turn me sad end of poem this recording is in the public domain the Bobolink by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James how sweetly sang the Bobolink when thou my love was nigh his liquid music from the brink of some cloud fountains seemed to sink built in the blue domed sky how sadly sings the Bobolink no more my love is nigh yet rise my spirit rise and drink once more from that cloud fountains brink once more before I die end of poem this recording is in the public domain the Sun shower by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James a penciled shade the sky doth sweep and transient glooms creep into sleep amid the orchard fantastic breezes pull the trees hither and yond to vagaries of aspect tortured then like the downcast dreamy fringe of violets when dim gates unhinge that locked their tears falls on the hills a mr. Frane so faint it seems to fade again get swiftly nears now sparkles the air all steely bright with drop swept down a narrow flight King quivering lines ceased and a breath the showery found and teasingly now as I look around sweet sunlight shines end of poem this recording is in the public domain June longing by George Parsons laughs Rob read for by Heather James Lowe all about the lofty blue or blown light vapors white like thistledown that from their soft and silver heaps opaque scattered delicate flake by flake upon the wide loom of the heavens weaving forms of fancies past believing and with fantastic show of mute despair as for some sweet hope hurt beyond repair melt in the silent voids of sunny air all day the cuy brooklet runs in tune half sunk in the blue the patterning moon shows white Lee hark the bobbolinks note I heared far and faint as a fairy spirit yet all these paths and as some blithe bird winging Lisa heartache for his singing a frustrate passion haunt me evermore for that which closest Wells to beauty's core o love canst thou this heart of Hope restore end of poem this recording is in the public domain une of the rain by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Knoll patreon part 1 Oh many toned rain Oh myriad sweet voices of the rain how welcome is its delicate overture at evening when the glowing moistured west seals all things with cool promise of night's rest at first it would earlier the earth to kinder mood with dainty flattering or soft sweet patterning faintly now you hear the Tramp of the fine drops falling damp on the dry Sun seasoned ground and the thirsty leaves around but a nun imbued with a sudden bounding access of passion it relaxes altimeter persuasion and with no pretext nor occasion its wooing redoubles and pounds the ground and bubbles in sputtering spray flinging itself in a fury of flashing white away till the dusty road flings a perfume dank abroad and the grass and the wide hung trees the vines the flowers in their beds the vivid corned that to the breeze rustles along the garden Rose visibly lifts their heads and as the shower Wilder grows up leap with answering kisses to the rain then the slow and pleasant murmur of its subsiding as the pulse of the storm beats firmer and the steady rain drops into a cadence shining deep breathing rain the sad and ghostly noise wherewith thou dust complain thy plaintive spiritual voice heard thus at close of day through volts of Twilight gray doth vex me with sweet pain and still my soul is fain to know the secret of that yearning which in thine utterance I err returning hash oh hush break not the dreamy rush of the rain touch not the marring doubt words bring to the certainty of its soft refrain but let the flying fringes flout their gouts against the pain and the gurgling throat of the waterspout grown in the eaves Amane the earth is withered to the shower darkness and or gird round the bridal hour part 2 Oh many toner drained it hath caught the strain of a Wilder tune ear the same nights noon when dreams and sleep forsake me and sudden dread doth wake me to hear the booming drums of heaven beat the long roll to battle when the knotted cloud with an echoing loud bursts asunder at the sudden resurrection of the Thunder and the fountains of the air unsealed against weep ruining everywhere to wrap the world in a watery winding-sheet part 3 o myriad sweet voices of the rain when the airy war death wane and the storm to the east hath flown cloaked close in the whirling wind there's a voice still left behind in each heavy hearted tree charged with tearful memory of the vanished rain from their leafy lashes wet drip the dews of fresh regret for the lover that's gone all else is still but the stars are listening and low over the wooded Hill hangs upon listless winged outspread a shape of damp blue cloud watching like a bird of evil that knows no mercy nor approval the slow and silent death of the pallid moon part four but soon returning Dooley dawn whitens the wet hilltops blue Lee to her vision pure and cold the night's wild tale is told on the glistening leaf in the mid road pool the garden Moe turned dark and cool and The Meadows trampled acres but hark how fresh the song of the wing at music makers for now the moanings bitter left by the rain make harmony with the swallows matin Twitter and the Robbins note like the winds in a tree the infant morning breathe sweet breath and with it is blent the wistful wild moist scent of the grass in the marsh wished the sea nourishes and behold the last reluctant drop at the storm rung from the roof is smitten warm then turned to gold for in its veins death run the very blood of the bold unsullied son end of poem this recording is in the public domain the song sparrow by George Parsons Lathrop read for by heather james glimmers gray the leafless thicket close beside my garden gate where so light from post to pick it hops the sparrow live sedate who with meekly folded wing comes to son himself and sing it was there perhaps last year that his little house he built for he seems to perk and peer and to Twitter too and tilt the bare branches in between with a fond familiar mean once I know there was a nest held there by the side word thrust of those twinks at touch his breast though tis gone now some rude gust caught it Oh full of snow bent the bush and robbed it so thus our highest holds are lost by the ruthless winter's wind when was Swift dismantling frost the green woods we dwelt in thinned of their leaf egde grow too cold for frail hopes of summers mold but if we with spring days mellow wake to woeful wrecks of change and the sparrows return a low scaling still its old sweet range can we do a better thing than with him still build and sing o my sparrow thou dost breed thought in me beyond all telling shoot us through me sunlight seed and fruitful blessing with that Welling ripple of ecstatic rest gurgling ever from thy breasts and thy breezy Carol Spurs vital motion in my blood such as in the sapwood stirs swells and shapes the pointed bud of the lilac and B sets the hollows thick with violence yet I know not any charm that can make the fleeting time of thy Sylvan faint alarm suit itself to human rhyme and my yearning rhythmic word does the greediest wrong dear bird so however thou hast wrought this wild joy on heart and brain it is better left untouched take thou up the song again there's nothing sad afloat on the tide that swells thy throat end of poem this recording is in the public domain Fairhaven bay by George Parsons Lathrop red to form by Larry Wilson I push on through the shaggy wood around the hill tis here it stood and there beyond the crumpled walls The Shining Concord slowly crawls yet seems to make a passing stay and gently spreads its lily Bay curved by this green and rida shore up toward the ancient homesteads door and dumbly sits the shattered house and makes no answer man and mouse long since for circuit and decay chokes its deep heart with ashes gray on what was once a garden ground dole red bloomed Sorrels now abound and boldly whistles the shy quail with in the vacant pastures pale strange and savage where she shines the Sun seems staring through those pines that once the vanished home could bless with intimate sweet loneliness the ignorant elastic sod the feet of them that daily trod its roots have utterly forgot the very fireplace knows them not for in the weedy cellar thick the ruined chimneys massive brick lies strong wide heaven with such an ease thus thou to lose the thought of these yet I although I know not who lived here in years that voiceless grew air I was born and never can and moved because I am a man o glorious gift of brotherhood o sweet elixir in the blood that makes us live with those long dead or hope for those that shall be bread Hereafter no regret can rob my heart of this delicious throb no thought of fortunes happily wrecked nor pang of nature's wild neglect and though the hearth be cracked and cold though ruin all the place in fold these ashes that have lost their name shall warm my life with lasting flame end of poem this recording is in the public domain and for autumn by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James veiled in visionary haze behold the ethereal autumn days draw near again in broad array with a low laborious hum these ministers of Plenty come that seemed to linger while they steal away Oh strange sweet charm of peaceful pain when yonder mountains bended arm seems wafting or the harvest plane a message to the heart that grieves and round us here a sad hue drain of leaves that loosen without number showering Falls and yellow umber red or russet thwart the stream now pale sorrow shall encumber all too soon these lands I deem yet who at heart believes the autumn a false friend can bring us fatal harm mist hung avenues and dream not more uncertainly extend than the season that receives a summers latest gleam but the days of death advance they tarry not nor turn I will gather the ashes of summer in my heart as an urn Oh draw thou near thou spirit of the distant height wither now that slender flight of swallows winging guides my sight the hill cloth seemed to me a fading memory of long delight and it is distant blue half Haida from my view this shrinking season that must now retire and so shall hold it hopeful a desire and knowledge old is night and always new drawn ire and with bended brow I will be thy Revere through the long winters term so when the snows hold firm and the brook is dumb when sharp winds come to Flay the hilltops bleak and whistle down the creek while the unhappy worm crawls deeper down into the ground to scape Frost's jailer on his round thy form to me shall speak from the wide valleys bound recall the waving of the last bird's wing and helped me hope for spring end of poem this recording is in the public domain before the snow by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James autumn is gone through the blue woodlands bear shatters the windy rain a thousand leaves like birds that fly the mournful northern air flutter away from the old forests Eve autumn is gone as yonder silent real slow eddying or thick leaf heaps lately shed my spirit as I walk moves odd and still by thronging fancies wild and wistful in autumn is gone alas how long ago the grapes were plucked and garnered was the grain how soon death settles on us and the snow wraps of its white alike our graves are green yay autumns gone yet it robs not my mood of that which makes mood dear some shoot of spring still sweet within me or thoughts of yonder wood we walked in memories rare environ II and though they die the seasons only take a ruined substance all that's best remains in the essential vision that can make one light for life love death their Joy's their pains end of poem this recording is in the public domain the ghosts of grouse by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Amy Graham our last night it snowed and nature fell asleep forests and filled by tranced and gracious dreams of growth for ghosts of leaves long dead me seems hover about the boughs and wild winds sweep or whitened fields full many a hoary heap from the storm harvest Mon by icebound streams with beauty of crushed clouds the cold earth teams and winter a tranquil seeming truce would keep but such a serial slumber may not bide the ascending sun's bright scorn not long I fear and all its visions on the golden tide of mid noon gliding off must disappear fair dreams farewell so in life stir and pride you fade and to leave the treasure of a tear and of poem this recording is in the public domain the lily pond by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Amy Kramer some fairy spirit with his wand I think has hovered or the dal and spread this film upon the pond and touched it with this drowsy spell for here the musing soul is merged in moods no other scene can bring and sweeter seems the air when scourge was wandering wild bees murmuring one ripple streaks the little lake sharp purple blue the birches thin and silvery crowd the edge yet break to let astraying Sun be men how can we through the yielding wood that day to this sweet rustling Shore Oh there together while we stood a butterfly was wafted or in Sleepy light and even now his glimmering Beauty doth return upon me when the soft winds blow and lilies toward the sunlight yearn the yielding wood and yet was both to yield and to our happy March doubtful it seemed at times if both could Bassett's green elastic arch yet there at last upon the marge we found ourselves and there behold in host the lilies white and large they closed with hearts of downy gold deep in the weedy waters spread the rootlets of the placid bloom so sprung my love's flower that was bred in deep still waters of hearts gloom so sprung and so that morn was nursed to live in light and on the pool where in its roots were deep immersed burst into beauty broad and cool view words were said a moment past I know not how it came that I and ardor of a glance that cast our love and universal law but all at once a bird sang loud from dead twigs of the gloomy beach his notes drop dewy as out of a cloud a blessing on our married speech I love how fresh and rare even now that moment in that mood returned upon me when the soft winds blow and lilies toward the sunlight yearn and a poem this recording is in the public domain first glance by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James a budding mouths and warm blue eyes a laughing face and laughing hair so ruddy does it rise from off that forehead fair Frank fervour and whatever she said and a shy grace when she was still a bright elastic tread enthusiastic will these brought the magic of a maid as sweet and sad as a son in spree joyous yet half afraid her joyousness to sing what ways the unworthiness of earth when Beauty such as this finds birth rare made to look on thee gives all things harmony end of poem this recording is in the public domain the sunshine of thine eyes by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James the sunshine of thine eyes Oh still celestial beam whatever it touches it fills with the life of its lambent gleam the sunshine of thine eyes oh let it fall on me though I be but a mote of the air I could turn to gold for the end of poem this recording is in the public domain when looking deeply in thy face by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James when looking deeply in my face I catch the under gleam of grace that grows beneath the outward glance long looking lost as in a trance of long desires that fleet and meat around me like the fresh and sweet white showers of rain which vanishing Neath heavens blue arches whirl in spring suddenly then I seem to know of some new fountains overflow in grassy basins with a sound that leads my fancy past all bound into a region of retreat from this my life's bewildered heat oh if my soul might always draw from those deep fountains full of all the current of my days should rise and to the level of thine eyes end of poem this recording is in the public domain within a year by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James one lips that are met in loves devotion sweet while parting lovers passionately greet and earth through heavens ark more swiftly moves Oh will they be less dear within a year two eyes in whose shadow spell far off I read that which two lovers taking loving heed dear woman's eyes full soon and plainly tell oh will you give such cheer this time a year three behold the dark year goes nor will reveal aught of its purpose if for wool or wheel Swift as a stream that or the mill where flows mayhap the end draws near within the year for yes darling once more touch those lips to mine set on my life that talisman divine absence new friends I fear not over much even death should he appear within the year end of poem this recording is in the public domain the singing wire by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James hark to that faint ethereal twang that from the bosom of the breeze has caught its rise and fall there rang Yoli and harmonies I looked again the mournful chords and random rhythm lightly flung from off the wire came shaped inward and thus me seemed they sung i messenger of many fates strung to the tones of woe or wheel fine nerve that thrills and palpitates with all men know or feel o is it strange that I should wail leave me my tearless sad refrain when in the Pinetop wakes the gale that breathes of coming rain there is a spirit in the post it too was once a murmuring tree its sapless sad and withered ghost echoes my melody come close and lay your listening ear against the bear and branchless would say croons it not so low and clear as if it understood I listened to the branchless pole that held aloft the singing wire i heard its muffled music roll and stirred with sweet desire o wire more soft than seasoned lute hast thou no sunlit word for me though long to me so coyly mute sure she may speak through thee i listened but it was in vain at first the winds old wayward will drew forth the tearless sad refrain that ceased and all was still but suddenly some kindling shock struck flashing through the wire a bird poised on it screamed and flew the flock rose with him wheeled and word then to my soul there came this sense her heart has answered unto thine she comes tonight go high the hints meet her no more repine mayhap the fancy was far-fetched and yet mayhap it hinted true ere memorize love a hand was stretched in mind that gave me you and so more dear to me has grown then rarest tones swept from the lyre the minor movement of that moon in yonder singing wire nor care I for the will of states or aught besides that smites that string since then so close it knit our fates what time the bird took wing end of poem this recording is in the public domain moods of love by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Noel patreon one in absence my love for thee is like a winged seed blown from the heart of thy rare beauty's flower and deftly guided by some breezy power to fall and rest where I should never heed in deepest caves of memory there indeed with virtue rife of many a sunny are even making cold neglect and darkness dour its roots with life swiftly it can to breed till now wide branching tendrils it out spreads like circling arms to prison its own prison fretting the walls with blooms by Myriad's and blazoning in my brain full summer season thy face whose dearness presence had not taught in absence multiplies and fills all thought to hearts fountain her moods are like the fountains changing ever that spouts aloft a sudden watery dome only to fall again in shattering foam just where the wedded jets themselves deceiver and palpitating downward downward / unfolded like a swift ethereal flower that sheds white petals in a blinding shower and straightaway saw Zanu with Blythe and ever the Sun may Kindle it with healthful fire upon it Falls the cloud Grey's leaden dode at night the stars shall haunt the whirling spire yet these have but a transient gob bestowed so her glad life what air the owls impart plays still twixt heaven scope and her own clear heart 3 south wind song soft throat itself breathing of summers ease sweet breath where of the violets life is made through lips moist warm as thou hadst lately stayed among rosebuds wooing to the cheeks of these loathe blushes faint and maidenly rich breeze still does thy honeyed blowing bring a shade of sad foreboding in thy hand is laid the power to build or blight rich fruits of trees the deep cool grass and field of thick combed grain even so my love may bring me joy or woe both measureless but either countered gained since given by her for pain and pleasure flow like tides upon us of the self-same see tears are the gems of joy and misery for the lovers year thou art my morning Twilight noon and Eve my summer and my winter spring and fall for nature left on the a touch of all the moods that come to gladden or to grieve the heart of time with purpose to relieve from lagging same so do these four stall in the such a heaped sweetnesses as Paul to swiftly and the taster tasteless leave scenes that I love to me always remain beautiful weather under summers Sun beheld or storm dock stricken across with rain so through all humors about the same sweet one doubt not I lovely well in each who see thy constant change is changeful constancy five new worlds with my beloved I lingered late one night at last the hour when I must leave her came but as I turned a fear I could not name possessed me that the long sweet evening might previewed some sudden storm whereby delight should perish what if death ear dawn should claim one of us what though living not the same each should appear to each in morning light changed did I find her truly the next day near could I see her as of old again that strange mood seemed to draw a cloud away and let her beauty pour through every vein sunlight and life part of me thus the lover with each new morn a new world may discover six wedding night that night was shaded eyes the summer moon in tender meditation downward glances at the dark earth far set in dim expenses and welcome her than blazoned gold of noon down through the air her steady light saw strewn the breezy forests I in moonlit trances and the full hearted poet waking fancies the smiling hills will break in laughter soon Oh thus thou gentle nature dust thou shine on me tonight my very limbs would melt like rugged earth beneath the on ray divine into faint semblance of what they have felt thine eye doth colour me a wife o mine with peace that in thy spirit long hath dwelt end of poem this recording is in the public domain love's defeat by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Larry Wilson a thousand times I would have hoped a thousand times protested but still as through the night I groped my torch from me was rested and rested how often with a succoring cup unto the hurt i hasted the wounded died ere I came up my cup was still untested untainted of darkness wounds and harsh disdain endured I never repented does not of these that would complain with these I were contented contented here lies the misery to feel no work of love completed in prayer less passion steel for kneel and mourn and cry defeated defeated end of poem this recording is in the public domain the lover who thinks by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James dust thou remember love those hours shot or with random rainy showers when the bald Sun would woo coy May she smiled then wept and looked another way we learning from the Sun and season together plotted joyous treason games maiden majesty to give each other trough and henceforth wedded live but love our love we know is blind not always what they seek they find when groping through dim lighted natures fond lovers look for old ideal stagers what then is all our purpose lost the balance broken since fate tossed uneven weights oh well beware that thought my sweet tor neither fit nor fair seek not for any grafted fruits from souls so wedded at the roots but what so air our fibres hold let that grow forth in mutual ample mould no SAP and circle without flaw into the perfect sphere we saw hanging before our happy eyes amid the shade of marriage mysteries but all that in the heart doth lurk must toward the mystic shaping work sweet fruit and bitter both must fall when the boughs bend at each year's autumn call ah dear defect that I shall lift us higher not through Craven shift a fault on common frailty nay but to vole hope to help with generous day I shall be nearer understood more prized art thou than perfectly good and since that loves to me I shall grow thy other cell thy love thy joy thy woe end of poem this recording is in the public domain the fissure of the cape by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James at mourn his bark like a bird slips lightly ocean word sail feathering smooth or the bay and beak that drinks the wild spray in his eyes beams cheerily alight like the sun's on the sea as he watches the waning strand where the foam like a waving hand of one who mutely would tell her love flutters faintly farewell but at night when the winds arise and pipe to driving skies and the moon piers half afraid through the storm clouds ragged shade he hears her voice in the blast that size about the mast he sees her face in the clouds as he climbs the whistling shrouds and a power nerves his hand shall bring the bark to land end of poem this recording is in the public domain sailors song by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James the sea goes up the sky comes down oh can you spy the ancient town the Granite Hills so hard and gray that rib the land behind the bay oh he he'll boys spread her wings fair winds boys send her home ohyeah ho three years is it so long that we have lived upon the lonely sea Oh often I thought we'd see the town when the sea went up and the sky came down oh he homeboys spread her wings Fairwinds boys send her home oh ye ho even the winter winds would rouse a memory of my father's house for round his windows and his door they made the same deep Mullis roar oh he ho boys spread her wings Fairwinds boys send her home oh ye ho and when the summers breezes beat me thought I saw the sunny Street where stood my Kate beneath her hand she gazed far out far out from land o ye Hill boys spread her wings fair winds boys send her home o ye ho farthest away I often esteemed that I was with her then it seemed a single stride the ocean wide had bridged and brought me to her side o ye homeboys spread her wings fair winds boys send her home o ye ho but though so near we're drawing now tis farther off I know not how we sail and sail we see no home would we into the port work come o hee ho boys spread her wings fair Lin's boys send her home Oh hee ho at night the same stars or the mast the mast sways round however fast we fly still sway and swings around once Canty circles star rebound oh he homeboys spread her wings Fairwinds boys send her home oh he ho ah many a month those stars have Shawn and many a golden morn has flown since that so solemn happy morn when I away my babe was born Oh hee ho boys spread her wings fair winds boys send her home Oh hee ho and though so near we're drawing now tis farther off I know not how I would not thought a miss had come to babe or mother there at home Oh hee ho boys spread her wings fair winds boys send her home oh ye ho tis but a seeming swiftly rush the Seas beneath I hear the crush of foamy ridges paints the prow longing at speeds the breeze I know Oh hee ho boys spread her wings fair winds boys send her home oh ye ho patience my mates though not this Eve we cast our anchor yet believe if but the wind holds short the run will sail in with tomorrow's Sun o ye ho boys spread her wings fair winds boys send her home oh ye ho end of poem this recording is in the public domain Jessamyn by George Parsons Lathrop rent for by Noel bade rien here stands the great tree still with Broadbent head and wide arms grown a weary yet out spread with their old blessing but one memory weaves strange Garland's now among the darkening leaves and the moon hangs low in the Elm beneath these glimmering arches Jessamine walked with her lover long ago and in this moon made shade he questioned and she spoke then on them both loves rare irradiance broke and the moon hangs low in the elm sweet Jessamine we called her for she Shan like blossoms that in Sun and shade have grown gathering from each alike a perfect white who's rich bloom breaks opaque through darkest night and the moon hangs low in the Elm and for the sweetness Walt her lover sought to win her wooed her hear his heart full fraught with fragrance of her being and gained his plea so we will Wed they said beneath this tree and the moon hangs low in the elm was it unfaith or faith more full to her made him for fame and fortune longing spur into the world far from his home he sailed and life paused while she watched joy vanish veiled and the moon hangs low in the Elm Oh better at the elm trees sun-browned feet if he had been content to let life fleet its wonted way there rearing his small house mowing and milking lord of corn and cows and the moon hangs low in the elm for as against a snarling see one steers never he battled with the beetling years and ever Jessamine must watch and pine her vision bounded by the Bleak sea line and the moon hangs low in the Elm at last she heard no more the neighbors said that Walt had married faithless or was dead yet nought her trust could move the tryst she kept each night still Neath this tree before she slept and the moon hangs low in the Elm so circling years went by and in her face slow melancholy wrought a tempered grace of early joy with sorrows rich alloy refiner rare no doom should ear destroy and the moon hangs low in the Elm sometimes at twilight when sweet Jessamine slow-footed weary I'd passed by to win the Elm we smiled for pity of her and mused on love that so could live with love refused and the moon hangs low in the Elm nor none could hope for her but she had grown too high in love for hope and bloomed alone aloft in pure sincerity secure for fortunes failures in her faith too sure and the moon hangs low in the Elm oh well for Walt if he had known her soul discouraged on disasters changeful sho wrecking he rested starved on selfish pride long years nor would obey loves homeward tied and the moon hangs low in the Elm but bitterly repenting of his sin Oh bitterly he learned to look within sweet Jessa means clear depth when the past dead mocked him and wild waste years forever fled and the moon hangs low in the Elm late late Oh late beneath the tree stood too in awe and anguish wondering is it true to that were each most like to someone wraith yet each on each looked with a living faith and the moon hangs low in the elm even to the treetop sang the wedding bell even to the treetop told the passing now beneath it Walt and Jessamine were Wed beneath it many a year she lieth dead and the moon hangs low in the Elm here stands the Great Tree still but age has crept through every coil while Walt each night has kept the tryst alone hark with what windy might the boughs chant her grave their burial right and the moon hangs low in the Elm end of poem this recording is in the public domain greased hero by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James a youth unto herself grief took whom everything of joy forsook and Men passed with denying head saying to her better he were dead grief took him and with master touch molded his being I marveled much to see her magic with the clay so much she gave and took away daily she wrought and her design grew daily clearer and more fine to make the beauty of his shape serve for the spirits free escape with liquid fire she filled his eyes she graced his lips with swift surmise of sympathy for others woe and made his every fiber flow in fairer curves on brow and chin and tinted cheek drawn clean and thin she sculptured records rich great grief she made him loving made him leaf I marveled for where others saw a failing frame with many a flaw me seemed a figure I beheld fairer than anything of elbe fashioned from sunny marble here nature was artists with no peer no chisels purpose could have caught these lines nor brush their secret brought not so the world weighed busily pursuing drazi industry but saturated with success well guarded by a soft excess of bodily ease gave little heed to him that held not by their Creed save or the beauteous youth to moan a pity that he has not grown to our good stature and heavier weight to bear his share of our full freight meanwhile thus to himself he spoke o noble is the knotted oak and sweet the gush of Sylvan streams and good the great sun's cladding beams the blush of life upon the field the silent might that mountains wield still more I love to mix with men meeting the kindly human can to feel the force of faithful friends the thirst for smiles that never ends yet precious more than all of these I hold great sorrows mysteries whereby gihan 'as sultry gaze is made to lift the golden veil twixt heavens starry sphere add light of truth and our dim Sun glint sight joy comes to ripen but his grief like Garner's in the greeny sheaf time was I feared to know or feel the spur of aught but gilded wheel to bear aloft the victor Fame would even have champed a stately shame a bit and Brian but my fears fell off in the pure bath of tears and now with sinews fresh and strong ice tried to summon with a song the deep invigorating truth that makes me younger than my youth Oh sorrow deathless thy delight deathless it were but for our slight endurance truth like vine too rare we dare but take in scanty Astaire he died the creatures of his kind fared on not one had known his mind but the unnamed yearnings of the air the eternal skies wide searching stare the undertone of brawling floods and the old moaning of the woods grew full memory the Sun many a brave heart has shone upon since then of men who walked abroad for joy and gladness praising God but widowed grief lives on alone she hath not chosen of them one end of poem this recording is in the public domain a face in the street by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James poor withered face that yet was once so fair grown ash and old and the wild fires of lust thy star like Beauty dimmed with earthly dust yet breathing of a pure native air they who while them curse and vultures sought a share of thy dead womanhood there read unjust have satisfied have stripped and left the bear still like a leaf warped by the autumn gust and driving to the end battle wrapped in flame and perfume all thy hollow-eyed decay feigning on those gray cheeks the blush that Shane took with her when she fled long since away God rain fire upon this foul sold city that gives such death and spares its men for pity end of poem this recording is in the public domain the bather by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Larry Wilson standing here alone let me pause awhile drinking in the light air with plunge of white limbs prone I raised the sparkling flight of foam flakes of volatile now in natural guys I wooed the deathless breeze through me rushing fleet with joy of life in swift surprise I grow with growing wheat and virgin with the trees low I fed her time so he cannot run and in Eden again the flesh of memory sublime dwell naked without stain beneath the days a Sun all yields Brotherhood each least thing that lives wrought of primal spores deep in this wild sense of good that on these as shaggy shores returned to nature gives oh that some solitude were hours in woodlands deep where with loosened eyes living life and limber food our life's shape might arise like mountains of fresh from sleep to sounds of water falling hosts of delicate dreams should low us and allure with a dim enchanted Colleen blameless to live and pure like these sweet Springs and streams but in a wilderness alone may such a life be why of all things framed in my human form confessed should I be ashamed and blush for honesty rounded strength II limbs that knit me to my kind your glory turns to grief shall I for my soul sing hymns yet for my body find no clear divine belief let me rather die than by faith upholding m'as weak that dare the form that once Christ warden I afraid with him to share a purity to fold yet while sin remains on this set and earth humbly walk my ways for my garments are as chains and I fear to praise my frame with careless mirth joy and penance go hand in hand I see would I could live so well soul of me should never know when my coverings fell nor feel this nudity and a poem this recording is in the public domain Helen at the Loom by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Noel patreon Helen in her silent room weaves upon the upright loom weaves a mantle rich and dark purple Dover deep but mark how she scatters over the wool woven shapes till it is full of men that struggle clothes complex short clipped steeds with wrinkled necks arching high spear shield and all the panoply that does recall mighty wall such war as fiend for Helens sake his waged I ween purple is the groundwork good all the field is stained with blood blood poured out for Helens sake thread run on and shuttle shake but the shapes of men that pass are as ghosts within a glass woven with whiteness of this one pale sad memories gleaming one from the garments purple fold where Troy's tail is twined and told well may Helen as with tender touch of rosy fingers slender she does knit the story in of Troy's sorrow and her sim field sharp filaments of pain reeled off with the well spun skein and faint bloodstains on her hands from the shifting sanguine strands gently sweetly she de sorrow what has been must be tomorrow meekly to her fate she boughs heavenly beauties still will rouse strife and savagery in men shall the lucid heavens then lose their high serenity sorrowing over what must be if she take us to her shame load they give her not the blame prions wisest counsellors aged men not loving wars when she goes forth clad in white day cloud touched by first moonlight with her fair hair amber hewed as vapor by the moon imbued with burning Brown that round her clings see she sudden silence brings on the gloomy whisperers who would make the wrong all hers so Helen in thy silent room labor at the storied loom thread run on and shuttle shake let thy arching sorrow make something strangely beautiful of this fabric since the wool comes so tinted from the fates died with love's hopes fears and hates thou shalt work with subtle force all thy deep shade of remorse in the texture of the weft that no stain on thee be left eye false queen shalt fashion grief grief and wrong to soft relief speed the garment it may chance long hereafter meet the glance of nun when her Lord now thy Parris shall go toward Ida at his last sad end seeking her his early friend who alone can cure his ill of all who love him if she will it were fitting she should see in that hour thine artistry and her husband's speechless course in the garment of remorse but take heed that in thy work nought unbeautiful may lurk are how little signifies unto thee what fortunes rise what others fall thou still shalt rule still shalt work the colored cruel though thy yearning woman's eyes burn with glorious Agony's pitying the waist and woe and the hero's falling low in the wall around the here yet that exquisite Astaire to exceed leads shall Dara be than life to friend or enemy there are people on the earth doomed with doom of too great worse look on Helen not with hate therefore but compassionate if she suffer not too much seldom does she feel the touch of that fresh auroral joy lighter spirits may decoy to their pure and sunny lives heavy honey tis she hides to her sweet but burden soul all that here she doth control what of bitter memories what of coming fates surmise Paris's passion distant in of the war now drifting in to her quiet idle seems idle as the lazy gleams of some steely waters reach seen from where broad fine leaves preach the heavy arch and looking through far away the doubtful blue glimmers on a drowsy day crowded with the sun's rich grey as she stands within her room weaving weaving at the loom end of poem this recording is in the public domain Oh wholesome death by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James Oh wholesome death by somber funeral car looms ever dimly on the lengthening Way of life while lengthening still in satyr a my deeds in long procession go that are as mourners of the man they helped to Mar I see it all in dreams such as Whaley the wandering fancy when the solid day has fallen in smoldering ruins and a night's star aloft there with its steady point of light mastering the eye has wrapped the brain in sleep when I die and planets take their flight above my grave still let my spirit keep sometimes its vigil of divine remorse midst pity praise or blame heat or my corpse and a poem this recording is in the public domain burial song for Sumner by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James now the last wreath of snow that melts in mist exhales white aspiration and our deep-voiced gales in chorus chant the measured March of spring whom griefs of life and death are burning slow slow with half held breath tread slow Oh Mars that all men may know what hero here lies low Oh music sweep from some deep cave and bear to us that gasp in this so meager air sweet ministries and consolations of contorted sound with Agony's profound of nobly warring and enduring courts that lie close bound unstirred as yet Neath I wide wakening wings so that our hearts break not in broken words o music that has power this darkness to devour in vivid light that from the dusk of grief hence caused to grow divergent flower and leaf and from death's darkest roots bring forth the fairest fruits come thou too quick in this hour of loss and keep thy spell on all that none may dare to weep for he who now we mourn as if from Giants born was strong in limb and strong and brain and nobly with a giant scorn withstood the diarist pain that healing science knows when by the dastard blows of his brute enemy lame low he sought to rise again through help of knife and fire the awful enginery wherewith men dare aspire to rest from death his victims yay though he who healed him shrank and throbbed with horror of the wound brave sumner gave no sound nor flinched nor sobbed but as though within the man instant premonition ran of his high fate imperishable sculptured state and throne and death to hold he stood a statute form of veiled and voiceless storm inwardly quivering like the Swift smitten string of unheard music yet as massively and firmly set as if he had been marble or golde build-in so brave a shape how could he hope escape the blundering people's wrath who's seeing him strong supposed it right to cast on him they're wrong since he could bear it all low now the somber Paul sweeps their dull errors from the path and leaves it free for him whose hushed heart no approaches has until his grave to fare enshrouded majesty his triumph fills the air behold the streets are bordered with vain breath of those who reverent watch the train of death but he has done with breathing wise death still choosing near and far thou couldst not strike a higher star from out our heaven and yet it's light in falling glorifies the night later in life his lips though dumb still rule us by their restfulness their smile of far-off meanings and the people come in tributary hosts for many a mile drawn by an eloquence more solemn and intense than that wherewith he shook the Senate while his look of sober lightning cleft the naughty growth of error that within the Riven root uplifted lit with peace truths bunts might shoot and blow sweet breath or all however lost unspeaking though his eyes forget the light that late forsook their chambers there doth rise mysteriously yet a radiant fence that glows on brows of them the great and wise poets and men of prophecies who with looks of strange repose calm exalted here have met him to follow to his grave well they know he's crossed they're bound yet with baffled longing brave seek with him the depths to sound that gulf our lonely life around Oh on these mortal faces frail what immortality falls from the death light pale even thus the path unto thy tomb Sumner all our brave and good still shall pace through time to come for in distant are born would seeing the glimmer of thy stone they a shaft shall deem it thrown from a dawn beyond the deep and so haste with thee to keep angelic Brotherhood Oh Harold gone before for these throw wide the door make room make room now music cease and bitter brazen trumpets hold your peace now while the dumb white air draws from our still despair a pure prayer then must the sod fulfill its humble share meek folded or his breast here where he lies amongst the waiting trees they shall break bud when warm winds from the West and southern breezes come to touch the place made precious by this grace of memory dear to God we leave him where the granite lion lies and gazes toward the east with women's eyes that read the riddle of the undying Sun bearing within her breast the stony germ of continents but lasting no less firm the memory of those marvels done the battles fought the words that wrought to free erase and chasten one we leave him where the river slowly whines a broken chain the that so late is hero finds without a stain whose names so long expectantly at Bohr and echoing now a people's thought the Charles shall murmur by this reassure his fame forevermore end of poem this recording is in the public domain arise American by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Heather James the soul of a nation awaking high visions of daybreak I saw and the stir of a state the forsaking of sin and the worship of law o pine trees shout and hoarser rush river under the sea foam fettered and Sun flushed a courser that feels a prairie free our birth star beckons to trial all faith of the far fled years ere scorn was our share and denial or laughter for Patriots tears and lo faith comes forth the finer from trampled thickets of fire and the Orient opens diviner before her the heaven lifts higher Oh deep sweet eyes and severe than steel he knoweth who comes by here o Bend dine eyes nearer now wilder than battle drums by glance in his blood is stirring his heart is alive like the Maine when the round wings are spurring and the broad tides shoreward strained oh hero art thou among us o helper hidest bow still why happy no anthem Sun us why waiteth nor work at our will for still a smirk or a favor can hide the face of false and the old-time faith seeks braver upholders and sacred earth walls yay cunning is Christian evil and subtle the conscience snare but virtues volcanic upheaval shall cast fine device to the air too long has the Lance soul slumbered and triumph bred dangerous ease our victories all unnumbered our feet on the down bold seas come men simple and stalwart life of the earlier days come far better than all were it our precepts our prayers and our lays that the heart of the people should tremble accord to some my key ones voice the helpless atoms assemble in music their valor to poise come to us mountain dweller leader wherever thou aren't skilled from my cradle a quelle heure of serpents and sound to the heart modest and mighty and tender man of an iron mold learn it or unlearn it our defender American sold end of poem this recording is in the public domain the silent tide by George Parsons Lathrop read for by Noel bade rien the tangled orchard round the farmhouse spreads wherein it stands home-like but desolate midst crowded and uneven statured sheds alike by rain and sunshine sadly stained the quiet country road before the door runs gathering close its ruts to scale the hill a sudden Bluff on the New Hampshire coast that rises rough against the sea and hangs crested above the boulders sprinkled beach and on the road white houses small are strung like threaded beads with intervals the church tops the rough Hill then comes the wheelwright shop from Orchard Church and Shop you hear the sea and from the farmhouse windows see it's strike sharp gleams through slender arching apple Bowers see like to echoing round me here their roles are surging sorrow and even so their breaks a smitten light of woe upon me now seeing this place and telling her again the tale of those who dwelt here once long since it was and they were to two brothers bound by early orphanage and solitude the closer cleaving strongly each to each to love that held them many years engage itself swept them asunder I have heard the story from old Deacon snow their friend he who was boy and man with them a boy what he how strange it seems who now is stiff and warped with life's fierce heat and cold his brows are hoary white and on his head the hairs stand sparsa sweet stalks on the bear fields edge Rubin and Jerry they were named but two of common blood and nurture scarce were found more sharply different for the first was bold breeze like and bold to come or go not rash but shrewdly generous popular and Boone and Jerry dark and sad faced with a least he loved himself or neighbor none could tell so cold he seemed in wanted sympathy yet he would ponder an hour at a time upon a bird found dead and much he loved to brood in shade of yon wind wavered Pines often at night to he would wonder forth lured by the hollow rumbling of the sea in the moonlight breaking there to learn wild things such as these dreamers pluck out of the dusk while other men lie sleeping but a star rose on his sight at last with power to rule majestically mild that deep domed sky high as youths hopes that stood above his soul and ruling led him David that was grace I mean grace Brierley daughter of the squire rivaling the wheelwright Hungerford shy Ruth's full beauty therefore in the sunny field mowing the clover purple grass or waked in keen December dawns while creeping light and winter tides beneath the pallid stars stole over the marsh together a thought of her would turn him cool or warm like the South breeze and make him blithe orbiter alas for him eagerly storing golden thoughts of her he locked a phantom treasure in his breast he sought to chain the breezes and to lift a fume as a pearl before his eyes intangible delight a time drew on when from these Twilight musings on his hopes he woke and found the morning of his love blasted and all its rays Shawn suddenly for Ruben too had turned his eye on grace and she with favoring face the suit had met known in the village this stream fettered youth perceiving not what past until too late one holiday the young folks all had gone strawberry with the village Sabbath school Ruben and grace and Jerry Ruth robbed snow and all their friends youth mates that buoyantly bore out against times armadas like a fleet of fair ships sunlit braced by buffeting winds indomitable brave but soon or late battle and hurricane or world them deep below to death or send them homeward seared by shot and storm so went they fought that day two wagons full of rosy children rolled along the ratty track to expand slope through deep green glimmering woods and out at last on grassy table and warm with the Sun and yielding tributary odors wild of strawberry late June rose juniper we're seein land breeze mingled there a brook through a bare hollow fleshing spurted pearled and shot away yet stayed a light and grace unconscious and unceasing and thick pines part by drew darkly far away their dim and sheltering cooler caves so all dismount and fields and forests gladden with their shout both swing and seesaw sending the light hearts the children hi Oh earth and everything while some stayed kindly woman draw and spread in pine shade the long whiteness of a cloth the rest a busy Legion o'er the grass kneeling must rifle the meadow of its fruit Oh laughing fate Oh treachery of truth to Royal hopes youth spouse before that day even there were life in such glad measure beat its round with winds and waters tunefully and birds made music in the matted wood the shaft of death reached Jerry's heart he saw the sweet conspiracy of those two lives in looks and gestures read his doom and heard their laughter ring to the grave all mirth of his so Reubens life in full leaf stood its fruit hidden in green expectancy but all his days were rounded with ripe consciousness while Jerry felt the winters whitening blight and when that frosty fern work and those palms abrasion relief and trailing vines quaint chased by night winds on the pain melt off and naked earth stone stiff with bristling trees stares in the winter sunlight coldly through but yet he rose and closed himself a Mane with misery and once more put on life as a stained garment highly he resolved to make his Daedelus days hence forward strike pure harmony a psalm of silences but on the Sunday coming from the church he saw those happy blighted lovers walk before proud Grace's father and of friends heard comment and congratulation given then with Rob snow he hurried to the beach to a rough heap of stones they too had reared in boyhood there the two held sad debate of life's Swift losses Bob inspiriting still Jerry rejecting hope even though his friend self wounding for he loved Ruth Hungerford told how the will rice daughter longed for him and yet might make him glad though grace was lost the season deepened and in Gary's heart ripened a thought charged with grave consequence his grief he would have stifled at its birth sad child of frustrated longing but a non knowledge of Ruth's affection being revealed which if he stayed to let it feed on him vine like my tree than whined about his life lifting all shade and sweetness out of reach of Robert so long his friend honour and hopes he would not name kindled a torch for war of various impulse in him reuben wedded yet jerry lingered then swift whisperings along reverberant walls of gossips ears hummed loud and louder a love for us grace to involved him in a web of soft surmise with Ruth and Reuben questioned him thereof but a white sudden anger struck like a bolt or Jerry's face that blackened under it he strode away and left his brother dazed with red rush of offended self-conceit staining his forehead to the hair this flash of anger first since boyhoods wholesome Strife's on Jerry's path gleamed lurid by its light he shaped a life's course out there came a storm one night he bade farewell to Ruth and when above the Seas the bare Brown dawn arose while the last laggard drops ran off the eaves he dressed but took some customary garb on his arm stole swiftly to the sands and there cast down his garments by the ancient heap of stones at first brief pause he made and thought and thus I play to win perchance a tear from her whom first to save the smallest care I thought I could have died but then at once within the sweep of swirling water planes that from the great waves circled up and slid instantly back passing far down the shore southward he made his way next day he shipped upon a Whaler outward-bound she spread her mighty wings and bore him far away so far death seemed across her wake to stalk withering her swift shape from the empty air until her memory grew a faded dream ah what a desolate brightness that young day flung were the impassive strand and dull green marsh and green arched orchard ear it struck the farm storm strengthened clear and cooled the morning rose to gaze down on that freighted home where dawned pale roofs discovery of her loss who late guessing some ill injuries last night words of vague farewell woke now to certainty of strange disaster so when Reuben and Rob hither and thither searching with locked lips and eyes grown suddenly cold in eager dread on those still sands beside the untamed sea came to the garments Jerry had thrown their dumb they stood and knew he'd perished if by chance borne out with undertow and rolled beneath the gaping surge or rushing on his death free-willed they would not guess but straight they set themselves to watch the changes of the sea the watchful sea that would not be betrayed the surly flood that occurred their suspense with hollow-sounding horror thus three times hurled on the beach their empty spray and brought nor doubt dispelling death nor newborn hope but with the fourth slow turn at length there came a naked drifting body impelled to shore an unknown sailor by the late storm swept out of the rigging of some labouring ship and him disfigured by the waters where the watching friends supposed they're dead and so morning took up this outcast of the deep and buried him with Church right and with Paul trailing and train of sad-eyed mourners there in the old orchard lot by Rubens door observed among the mourners walked slight Ruth her grief had dropped a veil of finer light around her hedging her with sanctity peculiar all stood shy about her save Rob's no he venturing from time to time some small uncertain act of kind leanness long seemed she vowed from joy but when the birds began to mate and quiet violets blow along the brook side low she smiled again again the wind flower color in her cheeks blanched in a breath and bloomed once more then stayed till like the breeze that rumours ripening buds a delicate sense crept through the air that soon these two would scale the church ground hill and Wed the seasons faced the world and fled and came in summer nights the soft roll of the sea were shattered resonant beneath the moon that silent seemed Harken and every hour in autumn night or day large apples fell without rebound to earth upon the sod they're mounted Greenlee by the large slate slab in the Old Orchard lot near Reubens door but there were changes after some long years Reuben and grace beheld a brave young boy bearing their double life abroad in one beginning knew the world and bringing hopes that in their paths fell flower-like not at ease they dwelt though for a slow discordance II of temper weak willed waste of life in bursts of petulance had marred their happiness and so the boy young Reuben as he grew was chafed and vexed by this ill-fitting mode of life forced on him and rebelled too oft brooding alone he shaped loose schemes of flight into the joyous outer world to break from the unwholesome wranglings of his home then once when at some slight demur he made dispute ensued between the man and wife he burst forth goaded someday I will leave leave you forever and his father stared lifted and clenched his hand but let it unloose nevertheless the blow unstruck yet quivered through the boy's whole body waiting for the night Reuben made ready lifted latch went forth then with his little bundle in his hand took the bleak road that led him to the world when Jerry eighteen years had sailed had bared his hurt soul to the pitiless son and drunk the rainy brew of storms on all seas tired of wreck and fever and renewed mischance that would not end in death a longing stirred within him to revisit that gray Coast where he was born he landed at the port whence first he sailed and as in fervid youth set forth upon the highway to walk home some hording he had made wherewith to enrich his brothers brewed for spendthrift purposes and as he walked he wondered how they looked how tall they were how many there might be at noon he set himself beside the way under a clump of willows sprouting dense or the weed woven marchin of a brook while in the fine green branches overhead song sparrows lightly perched for whom he threw from his scant bread some crumbs remembering well old days when he had played with birds like these the same perhaps or grandfathers of theirs or earlier still progenitors where at they chirped and chattered louder than before but as he said a boy came down the road stirring the noontide dust with laggard feet young reuben Toit's who seaward made his way and Jerry hailed him carelessly his mood moving to salutation and the boy from under his torn hat brim looking answered then seeing that he eyed his scrap of bread the Sailor bade him come and share it so they fell to talk and Jerry with a rough quick touching kindness the boy's heart so moved that unto him he all his wronged confessed gravely the Sailor looked at him and told his own tale of mad flight and wondering how wasted he had come back his life a husk of withered seeds a revolt purse though once with golden years well stocked all squandered now attending he prevailed and Ruben was one to turn and follow Jerry though he knew not yet the father's name said he that way was going to and he would intercede between the truant and his father back together then they went but on the way as now they passed from Pines to farming land the boy asked more tis queer you should have come from these same parts and run away like me you did not tell me how it happened Jerry foolish all of it but I thought it weightier than the world's history once I could not stay and see my brother married to the girl I loved and so I went the boy I had an uncle that was in love but he he drowned himself why do men do so Jerry drowned himself and when the boy I don't know long ago it's like a dream to me I was not born then deikun snow has told me something of it mother cries even now beside his grave poor uncle Jerry his grave that could not be then yet if it should be how can I think grace cried the boy how did you know my mother's name was grace Jerry I am confused by what you say but is your mother's name grace how grace to a strange uneasiness in Jerry's breast had waked they walked a while in silence thus he could not well believe that grace and Reuben unhappy were know that one son alone was theirs therefore aside he thrust that hidden sharp foreboding still he trusted still sustained a calm suspense and ranged among his memories tell me son he said about this Deccan snow Rob's no it must be I suppose the boy oh do you know him Jerry that Deakin now I once I knew Rob's know the Jolly blade if ever any was and Mary as the full moon the boy he has failed a good deal now though since his wife died Jerry what of course of course all's changed he married the boy why how long you must have been away for since I can remember he has had a wife and children she was grant their hunger feeds Jerry her name was Ruth the boy yes Ruth tis after her the Deacons nicest daughters named she's Ruth then sadly Jerry pondered and no more found speech they tramped on sternly to the brow of a long hill they came whence they could seed the village and blue ocean then they sank into a region of low-lying fields half-naked from the scythe and others veined with vines that midst dismantled fallen corn dragged all a thought a weight of Tony gourds Sun Mirage sound and now the level way stretched forward eagerly for hard ahead it made the turn that rounded Reubens house between the steel road and the tossing sea lay the wide swamp with all its hundred pools reflecting leaden light and on they passed a farm yard where the noisy Chanticleer strutted and ruled as one long since had done and then the wayside trough with jutting spouts of ancient mossy would that still poured forth its liquid largesse to all comers soon a slow cop met them filled with gathered kelp the salt scent seemed a breath of younger days they reached the road Bend and the evening shone upon them calmly Jerry paused oh well Reuben surprised glanced at him and then said young does the house old Jerry gazed on him and trembled for before him slowly grew through the boys face the mingled features there of father and of mother Grace's mouth ripe pouting lips and Reubens square framed eyes but mastering well his voice he bade the boy wait by the wall till he a little while went forward and prepared so Reuben stayed and Jerry with uncertain step advanced as dreaming of his youth and this his home slowly he passed between the gateless posts before the unused front door slowly to beyond the side porch with its Woodbine thick draping or thumbnail splendor thus he came before the kitchen window where he saw a gray-haired woman bent her needlework in gathering Twilight and without a voice rooted he stirred he stirred not but his glance burned through the pain and easily she turned and seeing that shaggy stranger standing there expectant shook her head as though to warn some chance wayfaring beggar he tho stood and looked at her a move ibly then quick the sash up throwing she made as if to speak harshly but still he held his quiet eyes upon her now as she paused her throat throbbed full her lips paled suddenly her one face flamed a fertile stir of memory strove to work renewal in those features wintry cold and so she hung while jerry by a step drawn nearer coming just beneath her said grace and she murmured Jerry then she bent over him clasping his great mattered head with those worn arms all joyless and the tears fell hot upon his forehead from her eyes for now in this dim gloaming their two souls unfruitful mysterious clue of individual being each in each but tremulously soon they drew themselves away from that so sweet so sad embrace the first the last that could be theirs then he summing his story in a word a glance added but though you see me broken down and poor enough not empty-handed quite I come for God set in my way a gift the best I could have sought I bring it you in memory of the love I bore not now must that again be thought of waste and black my life's fields lie behind me and a frost has stilled the music of my hopes but here if I may dwell no trouble you such a joy where mine I dare not ask it Oh forgive the weakness come and see my gift our tears flowed fast that night from Springs of love unsealed once more within the ancient house rare tears of reconciliation grief and joy a miracle it seemed had here been wrought the dead brought back to life and with him came the prodigal repenting so henceforth a spirit of peace within the household dwelt in Jerry a swift scent aged these years had brought to soften him wrought with alder whoa at home such open sagacious dignity that all for cheer and guidance learnt to look to him but chiefly the younger Ruben sought his aid and he with homely wisdom shaped the lad to a life's loving Duty yet not long alas the kind Seafarer with them stayed after some years his storm racked body drooped the season came when crickets ceased to sing and flame curled leaves fly fast and Jerry sank softly towards death then on a boisterous morn that beat the wrecked woods with incessant gusts to rest some last leaf from them he arose and passed away but those who loved him watched his fading half in doubt and half afraid as if he must return again for now entering the past he seemed and not a life beyond and some who thought of that old grave in the orchard dreamed a breath space that the man long buried had come back and could not die but so he died and ceasing made request beside that outcasts of the deep to lie none other mark desired he but the stone set there long since though at a stranger's gray in heavy memory of him thought dead they marked the earth with one more mound beside the other near a gap in the low wall that looked out seaward there you ever hear the deep remorseful requiem mop the sea and there in autumn wind falls showering thick upon the grave scored the slow voiceless hours with an rebounding stroke all round about green milkweed rankly thrives and goldenrod sprouts from his prostrate heart in fine poised grace abhor t curve with every crest in flower end of poem and end of rose and roof tree by George Parsons Lathrop this recording is in the public domain

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