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"Nevertheless please sing it, for if not to my taste, you will prevent it from running in my head any longer, as it has ever since I heard it." "You will never ask for it again," she said, and she sang the following words to a low-gliding melody designed to suggest the murmur of a small stream: 'Twas down in a meadow, close by a brook, A violet bloomed in a shadowy nook.
Her very style, so uncertain in its rendering of human speech, becomes flawless in such passages as this: "It was three o'clock; the church-bell tolled as I passed under the belfry: the charm of the hour lay in its approaching dimness, in the low-gliding and pale-beaming sun.
It was three o'clock; the church bell tolled as I passed under the belfry: the charm of the hour lay in its approaching dimness, in the low-gliding and pale-beaming sun.
She almost never attempts to describe any scenery with which she is not deeply familiar. But how wonderfully she catches the tone of her own moorland, skies, storm-winds, secluded hall or cottage! The charm of the hour lay in its approaching dimness, in the low-gliding and pale-beaming sun.
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