A light broke in upon my brain, - It was the carol of a bird; It ceased, and then it came again, The sweetest song ear ever heard.

Oh, God! it is a fearful thing To see the human soul take wing In any shape, in any mood.

There be none of Beauty's daughters With a magic like thee; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me.

My hair is grey, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fears.

After a thousand songs on the theme of boy-meets-girl-boy-loses-girl or Thatcher's Britain, exposure to her music comes as an imaginative release as we go gidd…

The trouble with him was that he was without imagination. He was quick and alert in the things of life, but only in the things, and not in the significances.

O that our souls could scale a height like this, A mighty mountain swept o'er by the bleak Keen winds of heaven; and, standing on that peak Above the blinding …