never_promised (
never_promised
) wrote
in
livinginmyglass
2017-04-03 10:54 pm (UTC)
no subject
His face had been slack, remote, a scholar dutifully putting his mind to his work; as soon as she speaks and he looks up, his face splits in a grin.
"Noise?
Noise?
What call you noise? Dost ramble through the woodlands green with spring, hear the thrush, and say
Bah, what noise is this?
"
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no subject
"Noise? Noise? What call you noise? Dost ramble through the woodlands green with spring, hear the thrush, and say Bah, what noise is this?"