Читать книгу Shapes and Shadows - Cawein Madison Julius - Страница 12

I stood in the forest on Huron Hill

When the night was old and the world was still.

The Wind was a wizard who muttering strode

In a raven cloak on a haunted road.

The Sound of Water, a witch who crooned

Her spells to the rocks the rain had runed.

And the Gleam of the Dew on the fern's green tip

Was a sylvan passing with robe a-drip.

The Light of the Stars was a glimmering maid

Who stole, an elfin, from glade to glade.

The Scent of the Woods in the delicate air,

A wildflower shape with chilly hair.

And Silence, a spirit who sat alone

With a lifted finger and eyes of stone.

And it seemed to me these six were met

To greet a greater who came not yet.

And the speech they spoke, that I listened to,

Was the archetype of the speech I knew.

For the Wind clasped hands with the Water's rush,