Chapter 387 of 1964 · 59 words · ~1 min read

CLI.

Now Juan could not understand a word, Being no Grecian; but he had an ear, And her voice was the warble of a bird,[155] So soft, so sweet, so delicately clear, That finer, simpler music ne'er was heard;[bq] The sort of sound we echo with a tear, Without knowing why--an overpowering tone, Whence Melody descends as from a throne.