название:
автор:
XIX The Bells
автор:
H. P. Lovecraft
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XIX. The Bells Year after year I heard that faint, far ringing Of deep-toned bells on the black midnight wind; Peals from no steeple I could ever find, But strange, as if across some great void winging. I searched my dreams and memories for a clue, And thought of all the chimes my visions carried; Of quiet Innsmouth, where the white gulls tarried Around an ancient spire that once I knew. Always perplexed I heard those far notes falling, Till one March night the bleak rain splashing cold Beckoned me back through gateways of recalling To elder towers where the mad clappers tolled. They tolled - but from the sunless tides that pour Through sunken valleys on the sea's dead floor.
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