Rang in that eerie monotonous way
Words sometimes will, when we don't will one bit.
Which proves they're alive—It is hard in the day,
But in the night who can battle with it?
And a little sob rose up in my throat—
'Harry, Harry, Harry,' thrill'd through the sob;
I touch'd the guitar, and its answering note
Came unexpected, and made my heart throb.
Song.
It was once upon a time,