我和汤姆结婚的时候，我们住在一套小公寓里;我喜欢唱歌、演奏等等。汤姆喜欢听我唱歌，他说他希望我不要停止所有的练习，就像许多妻子一样，让她们的音乐停止。所以我决定每天抽出一两个小时来保持声带和手的整洁，唱歌和演奏。第二天早上，我花了半个多小时研究海顿?这时，有人敲我的门。一个护士，戴着一顶漂亮的帽子，围着围裙，面带微笑，跑下来问我是否可以暂时停止我的音乐。住在楼上公寓的那位女士病得很重，她说，我的钢琴声让她心烦意乱。两个星期吗?我做完了练习，还没开始练习，第二天早晨，又传来敲门声。一个满脸痛苦的女人恳求我今后几天不要再听音乐了。 a man was dead below. I shut down my piano till the corpse had left the house, And spoke to Tom in whispers and was quiet as a mouse. A week of labour limbered up my stiffened hand and voice, I stole an extra hour from sleep, to practice and rejoice; When, ting-a-ling, the door-bell rang a discord in my trill ? The baby in the flat across was very, very ill. For ten long days that infant?s life was hanging by a thread, And all that time my instrument was silent as the dead. So pain and death and sickness came in one perpetual row, When babies were not born above, then tenants died below. The funeral over underneath, some one fell ill on top, And begged me, for the love of God, to let my music drop. When trouble went not up or down, it stalked across the hall, And so in spite of my resolve, I do not play at all.