The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice,
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice,
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet read more

Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice.

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.

Your voice dries up if you don't use it.

Your voice dries up if you don't use it.

Two voices are there; one is of the sea,
One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.

Two voices are there; one is of the sea,
One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.

. . . 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 . . .

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.

The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in read more

The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.

Her voice was like the voice the stars
Had when they sang together.

Her voice was like the voice the stars
Had when they sang together.