A Locanian having plucked all the feathers off from a nightingale
and seeing what a little body it had, read more

A Locanian having plucked all the feathers off from a nightingale
and seeing what a little body it had, "surely," quoth he, "thou
art all voice and nothing else." (Vox et praeterea nibil.)

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.

I thank you for your voices, thank you!
Your most sweet voices! Now you have left your voices,
read more

I thank you for your voices, thank you!
Your most sweet voices! Now you have left your voices,
I have no further with you.

The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear
So charming left his voice, that he awhile
Thought him read more

The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear
So charming left his voice, that he awhile
Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.

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.

A sweet voice, a little indistinct and muffled, which caresses
and does not thrill; an utterance which glides on read more

A sweet voice, a little indistinct and muffled, which caresses
and does not thrill; an utterance which glides on without
emphasis, and lays stress on what is deeply felt.

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.

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?

There is no index so sure as the voice.

There is no index so sure as the voice.