Explore "The Mirror Speaks" by Robert Louis Stevenson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
WHERE 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; / And when lights were in the hall, / Silent moved the dancers all.
So awhile I glowed, and then / Fell on dusty days and men; / Long I slumbered packed in straw, / Long I none but dealers saw; / Till before my silent eye / One that sees came passing by.
Now with an outlandish grace, / To the sparkling fire I face / In the blue room at Skerryvore; / Where I wait until the door / Open, and the Prince of Men, / Henry James, shall come again.