Приключения Робин Гуда

           So,talkingtohimself,hecametowherethedustyroadturnedsharplyaroundthehedge,alltenderwiththegreenofthecomingleaf,andtherehesawbeforehimastoutfellowsittinguponastile,swinginghislegsinidleness.Allaboutthislustyroguedangleddiverspouchesandbagsofdifferentsizesandkinds,adozenormore,withgreat,wide,gapingmouths,likeabroodofhungrydaws.Hiscoatwasgatheredinathiswaist,andwaspatchedwithasmanycolorsastherearestripesuponaMaypoleinthespringtide.Onhisheadheworeagreattallleatherncap,andacrosshiskneesrestedastoutquarterstaffofblackthorn,fullaslongandheavyasRobin’s.AsjollyabeggarwasheasevertrodthelanesandbywaysofNottinghamshire,forhiseyeswereasgrayasslate,andsnappedandtwinkledanddancedwithmerriment,andhisblackhaircurledclosealloverhisheadinlittleringsofkinkiness.

           "Halloa,goodfellow,"quothRobin,whenhehadcomenightotheother,"whatartthoudoingherethismerryday,whentheflowersarepeepingandthebudsareswelling?"

           Thentheotherwinkedoneeyeandstraightwaytrolledforthinamerryvoice:

           "Isituponthestile,

           AndIsingalittlewhile

           AsIwaitformyowntruedear,O,

           Forthesunisshiningbright,

           Andtheleavesaredancinglight,

           Andthelittlefowlsingssheisnear,O.