Читать книгу Кошмар По-эта - Говард Лавкрафт, Говард Филлипс Лавкрафт, Adolphe de Castro - Страница 70

I saw it from that hidden, silent place

Where the old wood half shuts the meadow in.

It shone through all the sunset’s glories – thin

At first, but with a slowly brightening face.

Night came, and that lone beacon, amber-hued,

Beat on my sight as never it did of old;

The evening star – but grown a thousandfold

More haunting in this hush and solitude.

It traced strange pictures on the quivering air —

Half-memories that had always filled my eyes —

Vast towers and gardens; curious seas and skies

Of some dim life – I never could tell where.

But now I knew that through the cosmic dome

Those rays were calling from my far, lost home.