Читать книгу Poems - Fanny Kemble - Страница 27

Walking by moonlight on the golden margin

That binds the silver sea, I fell to thinking

Of all the wild imaginings that man

Hath peopled heaven, and earth, and ocean with;

Making fair nature’s solitary haunts

Alive with beings, beautiful and fearful.

And as the chain of thought grew link by link,

It seemed, as though the midnight heavens waxed brighter,

The stars gazed fix’dly with their golden eyes,

And a strange light played o’er each sleeping billow,

That laid its head upon the sandy beach.

Anon there came along the rocky shore

A far-off sound of sweetest minstrelsy.

From no one point of heaven, or earth, it came;

But under, over, and about it breathed,

Filling my soul with thrilling, fearful pleasure.

It swelled, as though borne on the floating wings

Of the midsummer breeze: it died away

Towards heaven, as though it sank into the clouds,

That one by one melted like flakes of snow

In the moonbeams.  Then came a rushing sound,

Like countless wings of bees, or butterflies;

And suddenly, as far as eye might view,

The coast was peopled with a world of elves,

Who in fantastic ringlets danced around,

With antic gestures, and wild beckoning motion,

Aimed at the moon.  White was their snowy vesture,

And shining as the Alps, when that the sun

Gems their pale robes with diamonds.  On their heads

Were wreaths of crimson and of yellow foxglove.

They were all fair, and light as dreams; anon