Page:Underwoods, Stevenson, 1887.djvu/63

 XVIII

THE MIRROR SPEAKS

the bells peal far at sea

Cunning fingers fashioned me.

There on palace walls I hung

While that Consuelo sung;

But I heard, though I listened well,

Never a note, never a trill,

Never a beat of the chiming bell.

There I hung and looked, and there

In my gray face, faces fair

Shone from under shining hair.

Well I saw the poising head,

But the lips moved and nothing said;