Malade - Kostenloses Hörbuch

A PASSING BELL

MOURNFULLY to and fro, to and fro the trees are
           waving;
        What did you say, my dear?
     The rain-bruised leaves are suddenly shaken, as a
           child
     Asleep still shakes in the clutch of a sob—
        Yes, my love, I hear.

     One lonely bell, one only, the storm-tossed afternoon
           is braving,
        Why not let it ring?
     The roses lean down when they hear it, the tender,
           mild
     Flowers of the bleeding-heart fall to the throb—
        It is such a little thing!

     A wet bird walks on the lawn, call to the boy to come
           and look,
        Yes, it is over now.
     Call to him out of the silence, call him to see
     The starling shaking its head as it walks in the
           grass—
        Ah, who knows how?

     He cannot see it, I can never show it him, how it
           shook—
        Don't disturb him, darling.
     —Its head as it walked: I can never call him to me,
     Never, he is not, whatever shall come to pass.
        No, look at the wet starling.