"Dunsany, Lord - Fifty-one Tales" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dunsany Lord)

A demagogue and a demi-mondaine chanced to arrive together
at the gate of Paradise. And the Saint looked sorrowfully
at them both.
"Why were you a demagogue?" he said to the first.
"Because," said the demagogue, "I stood for those
principles that have made us what we are and have endeared
our Party to the great heart of the people. In a word I
stood unflinchingly on the plank of popular representation."
"And you?" said the Saint to her of the demi-monde.
"I wanted money," said the demi-mondaine.
And after some moments' thought the Saint said: "Well,
come in; though you don't deserve to."
But to the demagogue he said: "We genuinely regret that
the limited space at our disposal and our unfortunate lack
of interest in those Questions that you have gone so far to
inculate and have so ably upheld in the past, prevent us
from giving you the support for which you seek."
And he shut the golden door.













The Giant Poppy




I dreamt that I went back to the hills I knew, whence on a
clear day you can see the walls of Ilion and the plains of
Roncesvalles. There used to be woods along the tops of
those hills with clearings in them where the moonlight fell,
and there when no one watched the fairies danced.
But there were no woods when I went back, no fairies nor
distant glimpse of Ilion or plains of Roncesvalles, only one
giant poppy waved in the wind, and as it waved it hummed
"Remember not." And by its oak-like stem a poet sat,
dressed like a shepherd and playing an ancient tune softly