"Listen to this," Judith had commanded one day as she sat waiting for Nancy to finish dressing for dinner:
"How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank:
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold;
There's not the smallest orb which thou beholdest
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims;
"Isn't that beautiful?"
"Y-e-s," said Nancy, "I suppose it is. The words sound nice when you read them, but I'm sure I haven't a ghost of an idea what it means. Why does he put his ideas into poetry? Why doesn't he say it out plainly so we could all understand it without studying? It's an interesting play, though I believe it is Miss Marlowe who has made it so interesting," she added shrewdly; "I mean if any one had given me the 'Merchant of Venice' to read just like any other book, I'd never have gotten through it. Why can't Shakespeare say things right out plain?"
This was a poser for Judith. "But," she stammered, "it's like—like music. Music isn't right out plain; it's meant to be beautiful."
"Nancy must be joking," thought Judith as she tried to decide why the cherubims were "young-eyed." But no; a few days later Nancy was quite pettish about the preparation Miss Marlowe had set them.
"Find three stanzas of poetry which you could say are 'A joy forever.'"
"How do I know whether they are a joy forever?" she demanded irately of Judith; "I've been hunting for an hour and I can't find any. I don't know what it's all about most of the time."
"But didn't you like 'The Skylark,' and 'The Forsaken Merman,' and 'The Lotus-Eaters,' and 'Ulysses,' and 'The Lady of Shalott' and—oh, Nancy, there are lots to choose from. Let's find some that sound nice and some that have beautiful pictures in them."
They spent a happy hour together, for Judith loved poetry, and it was nice to share it with Nancy.