Вітер у вербах
Wayfarers All
"Whatdoyoufindtoattractyouinthispoordrablittlecountry?"
"Anddoyouthink,"saidthefirstswallow,"thattheothercallisnotforustoo,initsdueseason?Thecalloflushmeadow-grass,wetorchards,warm,insect-hauntedponds,ofbrowsingcattle,ofhaymaking,andallthefarm-buildingsclusteringroundtheHouseoftheperfectEaves?"
"Doyousuppose,"askedthesecondone,"thatyouaretheonlylivingthingthatcraveswithahungrylongingtohearthecuckoo’snoteagain?"
"Induetime,"saidthethird,"weshallbehome-sickoncemoreforquietwater-liliesswayingonthesurfaceofanEnglishstream.Butto-dayallthatseemspaleandthinandveryfaraway.Justnowourblooddancestoothermusic."
Theyfella-twitteringamongthemselvesoncemore,andthistimetheirintoxicatingbabblewasofvioletseas,tawnysands,andlizard-hauntedwalls.
RestlesslytheRatwanderedoffoncemore,climbedtheslopethatrosegentlyfromthenorthbankoftheriver,andlaylookingouttowardsthegreatringofDownsthatbarredhisvisionfurthersouthwards—hissimplehorizonhitherto,hisMountainsoftheMoon,hislimitbehindwhichlaynothinghehadcaredtoseeortoknow.To-day,tohimgazingSouthwithanew-bornneedstirringinhisheart,theclearskyovertheirlonglowoutlineseemedtopulsatewithpromise;to-day,theunseenwaseverything,theunknowntheonlyrealfactoflife.
