Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
The Conqueror Worm by Edgar Allan Poe read for LibriVox
dot Org by Joy Baker. Lo tis a gallant night
within the lonesome latter years. An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
in veils, and drowned in tears, sit in a theater
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to see a play of hopes and fears, while the
orchestra breathes fitfully the music of the spheres mimes in
the form of God on high. Mutter and mumble low,
and hither and thither fly mere puppets, They who come
and go at the bidding of vast, formless things that
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shift the scenery to and fro, flapping from out their
condor wings invisible. Woe that motley drama. Oh, be sure
it shall not be forgot, with its phantom chaste for
evermore by a crowd that sees it, not through a circle,
that ever returneth to the self same spot. And much
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of madness, and more of sin and horror the soul
of the plot. But see amid the mimic rout, a
crawling shape, intrude, a blood red thing that writhes from
out the scenic solitude. It writhes, It writhes with mortal pangs,
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the mimes become its food, and Sareh's sob at vermin
fangs in human gore imbued out. Out are the lights out,
all and over, each quivering form the curtain. The funeral
pall comes down with the rush of a storm, while
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the angels all pallid and wan uprising unveiling. Affirm that
the play is the tragedy man and its hero the
conqueror Worm. End of poem. This recording is in the
public domain.