Вітер у вербах
The Piper at the Gates of Dawn
Thelineofthehorizonwasclearandhardagainstthesky,andinoneparticularquarteritshowedblackagainstasilveryclimbingphosphorescencethatgrewandgrew.Atlast,overtherimofthewaitingearththemoonliftedwithslowmajestytillitswungclearofthehorizonandrodeoff,freeofmoorings;andoncemoretheybegantoseesurfaces—meadowswide-spread,andquietgardens,andtheriveritselffrombanktobank,allsoftlydisclosed,allwashedcleanofmysteryandterror,allradiantagainasbyday,butwithadifferencethatwastremendous.Theiroldhauntsgreetedthemagaininotherraiment,asiftheyhadslippedawayandputonthispurenewapparelandcomequietlyback,smilingastheyshylywaitedtoseeiftheywouldberecognisedagainunderit.
Fasteningtheirboattoawillow,thefriendslandedinthissilent,silverkingdom,andpatientlyexploredthehedges,thehollowtrees,therunnelsandtheirlittleculverts,theditchesanddrywater-ways.Embarkingagainandcrossingover,theyworkedtheirwayupthestreaminthismanner,whilethemoon,sereneanddetachedinacloudlesssky,didwhatshecould,thoughsofaroff,tohelpthemintheirquest;tillherhourcameandshesankearthwardsreluctantly,andleftthem,andmysteryoncemoreheldfieldandriver.
Thenachangebeganslowlytodeclareitself.Thehorizonbecameclearer,fieldandtreecamemoreintosight,andsomehowwithadifferentlook;themysterybegantodropawayfromthem.
