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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.
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.]
. . . 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 . . .
Thy voice
Is a celestial melody.
Thy voice
Is a celestial melody.
There is no index of character so sure as the voice.
There is no index of character so sure as the voice.
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.
He ceased: but left so charming on their ear
His voice, that listening still they seemed to hear.
He ceased: but left so charming on their ear
His voice, that listening still they seemed to hear.
The voice so sweet, the words so fair,
As some soft chime had stroked the air;
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The voice so sweet, the words so fair,
As some soft chime had stroked the air;
And though the sound had parted thence,
Still left an echo in the sense.
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?
