Chapter 572 of 1964 · 67 words · ~1 min read

XIV.

The gentle pressure, and the thrilling touch, The least glance better understood than words, Which still said all, and ne'er could say too much; A language,[237] too, but like to that of birds, Known but to them, at least appearing such As but to lovers a true sense affords; Sweet playful phrases, which would seem absurd To those who have ceased to hear such, or ne'er heard--