All audio files can be found on our catalog page: https://librivox.org/memories-by-abram-joseph-ryan/
Each fortnight a poem is chosen to be recorded by as many LibriVox volunteers as possible!Abram Joseph Ryan was an American poet, Catholic priest, Catholic newspaper editor, orator, and former Vincentian. An active proponent of the Confederate States of America, he has been called the "Poet-Priest of the South" and the "Poet Laureate of the Confederacy." (Summary by Wikipedia)
This fortnight's poem can be found here.
Project Code: OZaovbJi
New to recording? Please see our Newbie Guide to Recording for further instructions. A quick guide to our required technical settings can be found here. When you post your file, please tell the BC what name you would like to use in our catalog.
LibriVox recording settings: mono (1 channel), 44100 Hz sample rate, 128 kbps constant bit rate MP3. See the Tech Specs
Begin your reading with the abbreviated LibriVox disclaimer:
Leave ½ to 1 second of silence at the beginning.
Then read the poem:Memories by Abram Joseph Ryan, read for librivox.org by [your name].
[Add, if you wish, the date, and/or your location.]
At the end of your reading, leave a space and then say:They come, as the breeze comes over the foam,
Waking the waves that are sinking to sleep —
The fairest of memories from far-away home,
The dim dreams of faces beyond the dark deep.
They come as the stars come out in the sky,
That shimmer wherever the shadows may sweep,
And their steps are as soft as the sound of a sigh
And I welcome them all while I wearily weep.
They come as a song comes out of the past
A loved mother murmured in days that are dead,
Whose tones spirit-thrilling live on to the last,
When the gloom of the heart wraps its gray o'er the head.
They come like the ghosts from the grass shrouded graves,
And they follow our footsteps on life's winding way;
And they murmur around us as murmur the waves
That sigh on the shore at the dying of day.
They come, sad as tears to the eyes that are bright;
They come, sweet as smiles to the lips that are pale;
They come, dim as dreams in the depths of the night;
They come, fair as flowers to the summerless vale.
There is not a heart that is not haunted so,
Though far we may stray from the scenes of the past,
Its memories will follow wherever we go,
And the days that were first sway the days that are last.
Leave 5 seconds of silence at the end.End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.
Filename: memories_ryan_your initials in lowercase_128kb.mp3 (e.g. memories_ryan_klh_128kb.mp3)
Upload to the LibriVox Uploader: https://librivox.org/login/uploader
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MC to select: aradlaw
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