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Her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with read more
Her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence.
I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of
their wits, they would have no more read more
I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of
their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us;
but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently
as any suckling dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.
His voice was intimate as the rustle of sheets.
His voice was intimate as the rustle of sheets.
The voice is nothing but beaten air.
[Lat., Vox nihil aliud quam ictus aer.]
The voice is nothing but beaten air.
[Lat., Vox nihil aliud quam ictus aer.]
Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
My voice stuck in my throat.
[Lat., Vox faucibus haesit.]
My voice stuck in my throat.
[Lat., Vox faucibus haesit.]
Her voice changed like a bird's:
There grew more of the music, and less of the words.
Her voice changed like a bird's:
There grew more of the music, and less of the words.
His voice no touch of harmony admits,
Irregularly deep, and shrill by fits.
The two extremes appear read more
His voice no touch of harmony admits,
Irregularly deep, and shrill by fits.
The two extremes appear like man and wife
Coupled together for the sake of strife.
. . . solitude is such a potential thing. We hear voices in solitude, we never hear in the hurry read more
. . . solitude is such a potential thing. We hear voices in solitude, we never hear in the hurry and turmoil of life; we receive counsels and comforts, we get under no other condition . . .
