Sinopsis

The Strange Music Other loves may sink and settle, other loves may loose and slack, But I wander like a minstrel with a harp upon my back, Though the harp be on my bosom, though I finger and I fret, Still, my hope is all before me; for I cannot play it yet. In your strings is hid a music that no hand hath e'er let fall, In your soul is sealed a pleasure that you have not known at all; Pleasure subtle as your spirit, strange and slender as your frame,