noon
And she sang : `` Where is the blessed country where my beloved dwells ? '' But alas ! Her voice was thin and shrill and emotion made her sing out of tune . At times it sounded like a cry from the bottom of a soul which feels that noon is past and evening approaching . The fingers which had done hard work strayed on the wrong keys . The instrument , too , had seen its best days ; the cloth on the hammers had worn away ; it sounded as if the springs touched the bare wood . When she had finished her song , she sat for a while without turning round , as if she expected him to come and speak to her .