Fifty-One Tales by Lord Dunsany 1915

Nature and Time

Through the streets of Coventry one winter's night strode a

triumphant spirit.  Behind him stooping, unkempt, utterly

ragged, wearing the clothes and look that outcasts have,

whining, weeping, reproaching, an ill-used spirit tried to

keep pace with him.  Continually she plucked him by the

sleeve and cried out to him as she panted after and he

strode resolute on.

   It was a bitter night, yet it did not seem to be the cold

that she feared, ill-clad though she was, but the trams and

the ugly shops and the glare of the factories, from which

she continually winced as she hobbled on, and the pavement

hurt her feet.

   He that strode on in front seemed to care for nothing, it

might be hot or cold, silent or noisy, pavement or open

fields, he merely had the air of striding on.

   And she caught up and clutched him by the elbow.  I heard

her speak in her unhappy voice, you scarcely heard it for

the noise of the traffic.

   "You have forgotten me," she complained to him.  "You

have forsaken me here."

   She pointed to Coventry with a wide wave of her arm and

seemed to indicate other cities beyond.  And he gruffly told

her to keep pace with him and that he did not forsake her.

And she went on with her pitiful lamentation.

   "My anemones are dead for miles," she said, "all my woods

are fallen and still the cities grow.  My child Man is

unhappy and my other children are dying, and still the

cities grow and you have forgotten me!"

   And then he turned angrily on her, almost stopping in

that stride of his that began when the stars were made.

   "When have I ever forgotten you?" he said, "or when

forsaken you ever?  Did I not throw down Babylon for you?

And is not Nineveh gone?  Where is Persepolis that troubled

you?  Where Tarshish and Tyre?  And you have said I forget

you."

   And at this she seemed to take a little comfort.  I heard

her speak once more, looking wistfully at her companion.

"When will the fields come back and the grass for my

children?"

   "Soon, soon," he said: then they were silent.  And he

strode away, she limping along behind him, and all the

clocks in the towers chimed as he passed.