Posts Tagged

Lord Dunsany

Fiction

by Lord Dunsany I SAW an unclean-feeder by the banks of the river of Time. He crouched by orchards numerous with apples in a happy land of flowers; colossal barns stood near which the ancients had stored with grain, and the sun was golden on serene far hills behind the level lands. But his back was to all these…
Read More
Fiction

by Lord Dunsany THUS SPAKE the mountains: “Behold us, even us; the old ones, the grey ones, that wear the feet of Time. Time on our rocks shall break his staff and stumble: and still we shall sit majestic, even as now, hearing the sound of the sea, our old coeval sister, who nurses the bones of her children…
Read More
Fiction

by Lord Dunsany I WAS IN the pre-destined 11:08 from Goraghwood to Drogheda, when
I suddenly saw the city. It was a little city in a valley, and only seemed
to have a little smoke, and the sun caught the smoke and turned it
golden, so that it looked like an old Italian picture where angels walk
in the foreground…
Read More
Fiction

by Lord Dunsany ONCE Time as he prowled the world, his hair grey not with weakness but with dust of the ruin of cities, came to a furniture shop and entered the Antique department. And there he saw a man darkening the wood of a chair with dye and beating it with chains and making imitation wormholes in it. And…
Read More
Fiction

by Lord Dunsany “WAY FOR us,” said the North Wind as he came down the sea on an errand of old Winter. And he saw before him the grey silent fog that lay along the tides. “Way for us,” said the North Wind, “O ineffectual fog, for I am Winter’s leader in his age-old war…
Read More
Fiction

by Lord Dunsany I SAW A workman fall with his scaffolding right from the summit of some vast hotel. And as he came down I saw him holding a knife and trying to cut his name on the scaffolding. He had time to try and do this for he must have had nearly three hundred feet to fall. And I could think of nothing but his…
Read More
Fiction

by Lord Dunsany WHEN travellers from London entered Arcady they lamented one to
another the death of Pan. And anon they saw him lying stiff and still. Horned Pan was still and the dew was on his fur; he had not the look
of a live animal. And then they said, “It is true that Pan is dead.” And, standing…
Read More
Fiction

by Lord Dunsany IN THE Olympian courts Love laughed at Death, because he was unsightly, and because She couldn’t help it, and because he never did anything worth doing, and because She would. And Death hated being laughed at, and used to brood apart thinking only of his wrongs and of what he could…
Read More
Fiction

by Lord Dunsany WHEN ONE HAS seen Spring’s blossom fall in London, and Summer appear and ripen and decay, as it does early in cities, and one is in London still, then, at some moment or another, the country places lift their flowery heads and call to one with an urgent, masterful clearness, upland…
Read More
Fiction

by Lord Dunsany ALL ALONG the farmyard gables the swallows sat a-row, twittering
uneasily to one another, telling of many things, but thinking only of
Summer and the South, for Autumn was afoot and the North wind
waiting. And suddenly one day they were all quite gone. And everyone
spoke of the swallows…
Read More