song in my mouth."
So he went on singing this rough, unmeasured song of the old time as if
his heart were full and could not hold its peace. He sang of childhood
and youth and of joys half forgotten.
Sinth stood waiting, with the food in her hands, before he finished.
He let the children go and began eating.
"This is good," said he, "and I feel like blessing every one of you.
Sometimes I think God looks out of the eyes of the hungry."
After a moment he added: "Strong, do you remember that song I wrote for
you? It gives the signs of the seasons. I believe we called it 'The Song
of the Venison-Tree.'"
The Emperor looked thoughtfully at the fire and in a moment began to
sing. It is a curious fact that many who stammer can follow the rut of
familiar music without betraying their infirmity. His tongue moved at an
easy pace in the song of