th'

all knights of noble name, / That couet in th'immortall booke of fame / To be eternized ….

She crossed her hand an’ turned her face up like a bird does, only th’ ain’t no birds what can sing like she did; seemed like she was n’t a‐doin’ of it at all,—voice came out of itself, like ’s if ’t was just a waitin’ for a change to git out.