She Does Not Hear

Sh-sh-sh-sh-she does not hear the r-r-r-r-robin sing, Nor f-f-f-f-feal the b-b-b-b-balmy b-b-breath of Spring; Sh-sh-sh-she does not hear the p-p-pelting rain B-b-b-beat ta-ta-tat-t-t-toos on the w-w-winder p-p-pane.

Sh-sh-sh-she cuc-cuc-cannot see the Autumn s-s-sky, Nor hear the wild geeese s-s-s-stringing b-b-by; And, oh! how happy t-t-t-'tis to know Sh-sh-she never f-f-feels an earthly woe!

I s-s-spoke to her; sh-sh-she would not speak. I kuk-kuk-kuk-kissed her, but c-c-cold was her cheek. I could not twine her w-w-w-wondrous hair— It w-w-was so wonderf-f-f-fully rare.

B-b-beside her s-s-stands a v-v-v-vase of flowers, A gilded cuc-cuc-cuc-clock that t-t-tells the hours; And even now the f-f-fire-light f-f-f-falls On her, and d-d-dances on the walls.

Sh-sh-she's living in a p-p-pup-purer life, Where there's no tu-tuh-turmoil and no strife; No t-t-t-tongue can m-m-m-mock, no words em- barrass Her b-b-b-b-by g-g-gosh! she's p-p-plaster paris!