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.

A man's style is his mind's voice. Wooden minds, wooden voices.

A man's style is his mind's voice. Wooden minds, wooden voices.

. . . 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 . . .

There is no index so sure as the voice.

There is no index so sure as the voice.

How sweetly sounds the voice of a good woman!
It is so seldom heard that, when it speaks,
read more

How sweetly sounds the voice of a good woman!
It is so seldom heard that, when it speaks,
It ravishes all senses.

It is the still small voice that the soul heeds; not the deafening blasts of doom.

It is the still small voice that the soul heeds; not the deafening blasts of doom.

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.

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.

At some glad moment was it nature's choice To dower a scrap of sunset with a voice?

At some glad moment was it nature's choice To dower a scrap of sunset with a voice?