The Listeners - (Narrated poem)
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (Canadian-General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
is there anybody there? Said the traveler, knocking on the moonlit door and his horse and the silence champ. The grasses of the forest, Fernie floor and a bird flew up out of the turret above the Travelers head, and he smoked upon the door again a second time. Is there anybody there? He said. But no one descended to the traveler. No head from the leaf. French still leaned over and looked into his grey eyes, where he stood perplexed and still. But only a host of phantom listeners that dwells in the lone house, then stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight to that voice from the world of men stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stare that goes down to the empty hole, hearkening in an air stirred and shaken by the lonely travelers coal And he felt in his heart. There, strangeness. There's stillness, answering his cry while his horse moved cropping the dark turf needs the start and leafy sky. For suddenly, he smoked on the door even louder and lifted his head. Tell them I came and no one answered that I kept my word, he said. Never the least 13 aid the listeners, though every word he spake fell, echoing through the shadowy nous of this still house from the one man left awake. All right, They heard his foot upon this Thera and the sound of iron on stone And how the silence surge softly backward when the plunging hoofs were gone.