紅色的是自己聽出來的音，感覺不對的地方。
17. A little Girl
Sitting on a grassy grave beneath one of windows of the church was a little girl. With her head bent back, she was gazing up the sky and singing. While one of her little hands was pointing to a tiny cloud that hovered like a golden feather above her head. The sun which suddenly become very bright shining on her glossy hair, gave it a metallic luster, and it was difficult to say what was the color, dark bronze or black. So completely absorbed was she and watching the cloud, to which her strange song or incantation seems addressed, that she did not observe me when I rose and went toward her. Over her head high up in the blue, a lark that was soaring towards the same gauzy clouds was singing, as if in a rivalry. As I slowly approached the child, I could see by her forehead, which in the sunshine seems like globe a purl and especially by her complexion that she was uncommonly lovely. Her eyes which in one moment seemed blue grey and another violet, were shaded by long black lashes, curving backward in a most peculiar way and these matched in hue of her eyebrows, and treashes that were tossed about her tender throat that were quivering in the sun light. All of these I did not take in at once. At first, I can see nothing but those quivering glittering changeful eyes turned up to my face, gradually, the other features especially the sensitive fulled mouth group on me as I stood silently gazing, here seems to me a more perfectly beauty that had ever come to me in my loveless dream of beauty, yet it was not her beauty so much as the look she gave me that fascinated me, melted me.
From Elvin, By Treadle Waltz Dunton
