Читать книгу The Complete Works of Algernon Blackwood. Novels, Short Stories, Horror Classics, Occult & Supernatural Tales, Plays онлайн

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Above the embers of my heart,

Waiting the Living Breath;

The sparks fly listlessly apart—

Then circle to their death.

Dead sparks that gathered ne'er to flame,

Nor felt the kiss of fire!

Dead thoughts that never found the name

To spell their deep desire!

Is then this instrument so poor

That it may never sound

Songs that must pass for evermore

Unuttered and uncrowned?

O soul that fain would'st steal heaven's fire,

Who clipped thy golden wings?

Who made so passionate a lyre,

Then never tuned the strings?

The Winds of Inspiration blow,

Yet pass me ever by;

And songs God taught me long ago,

Lost in the silence—die.

He rose from the table with a gesture of abrupt impatience and read the entire effusion through from beginning to end. First he laughed, then he sighed. He wondered for a moment how it was that so little of his passion had crept into the poor words. He crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the drawer; and then, blowing out the candles, moved over to the big arm-chair and dropped down into it. Again, as he sat there, his thoughts fell to dramatising his mood. He imagined that region within himself where all might come true, and all yearnings find adequate expression. The idea got more and more mingled with the storm. He pictured it to himself with extraordinarily vivid detail.