She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing.

She went from period to period exactly as she would have read prose; so that sense and music were equally balanced.

She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep.

But he was wide awake.
"What poet was that ?" "Stevenson." Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson.

Of course Ruth was not aware that in this same volume there were lyrics known the world over.
Immediately Spurlock began to chant one of these.
"'Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will.'" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea.
And the hunter home from the hill.'" "What is that ?" she asked.