LXXVI.

I sometimes almost think that eyes have ears:

This much is sure, that, out of earshot, things

Are somehow echoed to the pretty dears,

Of which I can't tell whence their knowledge springs.

Like that same mystic music of the spheres,

Which no one hears, so loudly though it rings,

'Tis wonderful how oft the sex have heard

Long dialogues—which passed without a word!

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