He showed them to her before taking them to school on Monday morning, and Ethel thought they were the best he had ever written.

There was too much spirit and poetical beauty for a mere schoolboy task, and she begged for the foul copy to show it to her father.

"I have not got it," said Norman.

"The foul copy was not like these; but when I was writing them out quite late, it was all I don't know how.

Flora's music was in my ears, and the room seemed to get larger, and like an ocean cave; and when the candle flickered, 'twas like the green glowing light of the sun through the waves." "As it says here," said Ethel.
"And the words all came to me of themselves in beautiful flowing Latin, just right, as if it was anybody but myself doing it, and they ran off my pen in red and blue and gold, and all sorts of colours; and fine branching zig-zagging stars, like what the book described, only stranger, came dancing and radiating round my pen and the candle.