Веснянки

           Frecklesidlywonderedwhetherthenerve-rackingraspstheyoccasionallyemittedindicateddomesticfelicityoraragingquarrel.Hecouldnotdecide.Asheitpoke,withflaringcrest,wentstalkingacrossabarespaceclosetothecreek’smouth.Astatelybrownbitternwadedintotheclear-flowingwater,liftinghisfeethighateverystep,andsettingthemdowncarefully,asifhedreadedwettingthem,andwithslightlypartedbeak,stoodeagerlywatchingaroundhimforworms.Behindhimweresomemightytreesoftheswampabove,andbelowthebankglowedasolidwallofgoldenrod.

           Nowondertheancientshadchosenyellowasthecolortorepresentvictory,forthefierce,conqueringhueofthesunwasinit.Theyhaddonewell,too,inselectingpurpleastheemblemofroyalty.Itwasadignified,compellingcolor,whileinitswarmtonetherewasahintofblood.

           ItwastheLimberlost’shourtoproclaimhersovereigntyandtriumph.Everywheresheflauntedheryellowbannerandtrailedthepurpleofhermantle,thatwaspalerinthethistle-heads,tookonstrengthinthefirstopeningasters,andglowedandburnedintheironwort.

           Hegazedintoherdamp,mossyrecesseswherehigh-piledriventreesdecayedundercoatsoflivinggreen,wheredaintyvinesswayedandclambered,andhereandthereayellowleaf,flutteringdown,presagedthecomingofwinter.Hisloveoftheswamplaidholdofhimandshookhimwithitsforce.

           CompellinglybeautifulwastheLimberlost,butcruelwithal;forinsidebleachedtheuncoffinedbonesofhervictims,whileshehadmissedcradlinghim,oh!sonarrowly.