Дні мрій
Dies Irae
Abandoningthebeatentrack,Ithenstruckhomewardsthroughthefields;notthatthewaywasverymuchshorter,butratherbecauseonthatrouteoneavoidedthebridge,andhadtosplashthroughthestreamandgetrefreshinglywet.Bridgesweremadefornarrowfolk,forpeoplewithaimsandvocationswhichcompelledabandonmentofmanyoflife’shighestpleasures.Trulywisemencalledoneachelementaliketoministertotheirjoy,andwhilethetouchofsun-bathedair,thefragranceofgardensoil,theductiblequalitiesofmud,andthespark-whirlingraptureofplayingwithfire,hadeachtheirspecialcharm,theydidnotoverlooktheblissofgettingtheirfeetwet.AsIcameforthonthecommonHaroldbrokeoutofanadjoiningcopseandrantomeetme,themorningrain-cloudsallblownawayfromhisface.Hehadmadeanewsquirrel-stick,itseemed.Madeitallhimself;meltedtheleadandeverything!Iexaminedtheinstrumentcritically,andpronounceditabsolutelymagnificent.Aswepassedinatourgatethegirlsweredistantlyvisible,gardeningwithazealincheerfulcontrasttotheirheartsicklassitudeofthemorning.“There’sbinanotherlettercometo-day,”Haroldexplained,“andthehampergotjoggledaboutonthejourney,andthepresentsworkeddownintothestrawandallovertheplace.Oneof’emturnedupinsidethecoldduck.Andthat’swhytheyweren’tfoundatfirst.AndEdwardsaid,ThanksAWFULLY”IdidnotseeMarthaagainuntilwewereallre-assembledattea-time,whensheseemedred-eyedandstrangelysilent,neitherscoldingnorfindingfaultwithanything
