Читать книгу Dark Soil - Stringer Arthur - Страница 4

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The old giant drowsed

With his bones in the sun.

Over the sleeper,

So stolid and wrinkled and still,

The pigmies swarmed

With their cobwebs of steel

And their trickles of stone.

“For all time,” said the pigmy swarm,

“These things shall endure!”

The tired old giant,

Where a flurry of cities freckled his skin,

Moved a muscle,

And sighed,

And resumed his sleep.