VoxForge
Chapter: Weekly Poetry |
Reader: Sean McGaughey ductapeguy |
URL link to audio: FTP |
broadway_teasdale_smm.flac
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Broadway by Sara Teasdale, read for LibriVox.org by [your name].
[Add, if you wish, date, your location, and/or your personal url.] |
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THIS is the quiet hour; the theaters Have gathered in their crowds, and steadily The million lights blaze on for few to see, Robbing the sky of stars that should be hers. A woman waits with bag and shabby furs, A somber man drifts by, and only we Pass up the street unwearied, warm and free, For over us the olden magic stirs. Beneath the liquid splendor of the lights We live a little ere the charm is spent; This night is ours, of all the golden nights, The pavement an enchanted palace floor, And Youth the player on the viol, who sent A strain of music through an open door. |
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End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. |
--- (Edited on 9/27/2007 9:20 pm [GMT-0500] by ductapeguy) ---