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

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Her hair about the wood,

It blows across my eyes too

Her pictured solitude.

And then Aventures gather

On little hidden feet,

And mystery and laughter

The magic things repeat.

For, O my Silver Birch tree,

Full half the 'things' we do,

We did—or e'er you sweetened

The starlight and the dew!

They stood there, all in order,

Ready and waiting even,

Before the sunlight kissed you,

Or you, the winds of heaven.

Who told you, then, O Birch Tree,

The 'Ventures that we play?

And how can you remember

The wonder—and the Way?

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Panthea. Look, sister, where a troop of spirits gather

Like flocks of cloud in spring's delightful weather,

Thronging in the blue air!

Ione And see! More come.

Like fountain-vapours when the winds are dumb,

That climb up the ravines in scattered lines.

And hark! Is it the music of the pines?

Is it the lake? Is it the waterfall?

Panthea. 'Tis something sadder, sweeter far than all.

Prometheus Unbound.

'IT'S all very well for you two to play at being trees,' the voice of Joan was heard to object, 'but I should like to know what part.'