all had rich brown voices that gave their clearly enunciated words a mellow music that bypassed your ears and slid straight into your soul.
Especially James Mason – he purred like a contented cat. Such rich, pinguid notes.
Dylan Thomas had the confident, booming voice of a Welsh minister “……and deaeaeath shall have nooooo domminnnion….” that commanded and demanded your attentive hearing
And handsomest of them all, Richard Burton could send those rounded polished streamlined words spinning effortlessly gracefully through space ….
I can still see them, still hear them, still shut my eyes and listen to their voices like remembered music……
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.