He the sweetest of all singers.

He the sweetest of all singers.

His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

Come, sing now, sing; for I know you sing well;
I see you have a singing face.

Come, sing now, sing; for I know you sing well;
I see you have a singing face.

Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
read more

Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
Where music and moonlight and feeling
Are one.

The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation,
And for the bass, the beast can only bellow;
In read more

The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation,
And for the bass, the beast can only bellow;
In fact, he had no singing education,
An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow.

At every close she made, th' attending throng
Replied, and bore the burden of the song:
So read more

At every close she made, th' attending throng
Replied, and bore the burden of the song:
So just, so small, yet in so sweet a note,
It seemed the music melted in the throat.

You know you haven't got a singing face.

You know you haven't got a singing face.

Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes
And interchanged love tokens with my child;
Thou hast read more

Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes
And interchanged love tokens with my child;
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung
With feigning voice verses of feigning love.

They sing, they will pay.
[Fr., Ils chantent, ils payeront.]

They sing, they will pay.
[Fr., Ils chantent, ils payeront.]