Chapters 16
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1 Broadway - Read by ADD 1:23
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 sombre 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 and enchanted palace floor. And youth, the player on the viol, who sent the strain of music through an open door.
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2 Broadway - Read by CAL 1:07
This is the quiet hour. The theatres have gathered in their crowds, and steadily the million lights blaze on for few to see. Robbing the sky of stars, it should be hers.
A woman waits with a bag in shabby furs. A sombre 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 and enchanted palace floor. And youth, the player on the viol, It sent a strain of music through an open door.
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3 Broadway - Read by CA 0:59
Broadway by Sarah Teasdale.
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 sombre 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 and enchanted palace floor, and youth, the player on the viol, who sent a strain of music, Through an open door.
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4 Broadway - Read by CLA 1:01
Broadway by Sarah Teasdale. 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 and enchanted palace floor, and youth, the player on the viol, who sent a strain of music through an open door.
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5 Broadway - Read by JB 1:06
This is the quiet hour. The theatres 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 sombre 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. End of bow.
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6 Broadway - Read by JFG 1:14
Broadway by Sarah Teasdale. Read for LibriVox.org by James Gladwin. Somerset. September, two thousand and seven.
This is the quiet hour. The theatres 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 sombre man drifts by, and only we pass up the street unwearied, warm and free, for over us the olden magic stirs. Beneath the liquid splendour 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.
End of Perim.
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7 Broadway - Read by KG 0:56
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 and enchanted palace floor, and youth, the player on the vial, who sent a strain of music through an open door.
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8 Broadway - Read by KLH 1:05
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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9 Broadway - Read by LAH 0:59
Broadway by Sarah Teasdale.
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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10 Broadway - Read by LC 1:04
Broadway by Sarah Teasdale. 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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11 Broadway - Read by LW 0:56
This is the quiet hour. The theatres 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 back and shabby furs, a sumber man roofs by, and only we pass up the street unworthy, warm and free, for over us, The olden magic stirs. Beneath the liquid splendor of the lights, we live a little air that charm is spent. This night is ours, of all the golden nights, the pavement and enchanted palace floor, and youth, the player on the vial, who sent a strain of music through an open door.
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12 Broadway - Read by MLB 0:49
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 mandra spy, and only we pass up the street unwearied, warm and free. For over us the olden magic stirs. Beneath the liquid splendor of the light, we live a little ere the charm is spent. This night is ours, of all the golden nights, the payment an enchanted palace floor, and youth the player on the vial, who sent a strain of music through an open door.
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13 Broadway - Read by RO 1:08
Broadway by Sarah Teasdale.
This is the quiet hour. The theaters have gathered in their crowds, and steadily the million lights blaze on for a 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's spent. This night is ours, of all the golden nights. The pavement, an enchanted palace floor, and youth, the player on the vial, who sent a strain of music through an open door.
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14 Broadway - Read by SMM 1:04
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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15 Broadway - Read by STL 0:55
Broadway by Sarah Teasdale. This is the quiet hour. The theaters are 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 and enchanted palace floor, And youth, the player and the viol, Who sent a strain of music through an open door.
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16 Broadway - Read by TD 1:19
This is the quiet hour. The theatres 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 sombre man drifts by, and only we pass up the street unwearied, warm and free, for over us the olden magic stirs. Beneath the liquid splendour of the lights, we live a little ere the charm is spent. This night is ours, Of all the golden knights, the pavement an enchanted palace floor, and youth, the player on the viol, who sent a strain of music through an open door.