Classicism in literature; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
Meanwhile he has been sending the canoe quietly along the winding water
path, dipping the paddle with easy, rhythmic swings of his shoulders,
pushing the blade astern through the clear water and swinging it,
flashing and dripping, back for the next stroke. He had tossed his
light cloth cap into the bottom of the canoe and had laid his coat
over a thwart. The summer morning sunlight, slanting through the
branches, wove quickly vanishing patterns in gold upon his brown hair.
The tiny breeze, just a mere breath from the southwest, fragrant with
the odor of damp, sun-warmed soil and greenery, stirred the sheer white
shirt he wore and laid it in folds under the raised arm.
The brook was rather shallow; everywhere the pebbled bottom was
visible. It was a whimsical brook, full of sudden turns and twistings;
rounding tiny promontories of alder and sheepberry, dipping into quiet
bays where bush honeysuckles were dripping sweetness from their pale
yellow funnels, skirting curving beaches of white sand where standing
armies of purple flags held themselves stiffly at attention and
restrained the invasion of the eager, swaying fern-rabble.
[Illustration]
He had gone several hundred yards by this time against the slow
current, and now there was evident a change in the foliage lining
the banks, even in the banks themselves. Artifice had aided nature.
Pink and white and yellow lilies dotted the stream, while at a little
distance a slender, graceful stone bridge arched from shore to shore.
Woodbine clustered about it and threw cool, trembling leaf-shadows
against the sunlit stones. The arch framed a charming vista of the
brook beyond. The canoe slipped noiselessly under the bridge and the
strip of shadow rested gratefully for an instant on Ethan’s face. On
the left there was a momentary break in the foliage and a brief glimpse
of a wide expanse of velvety turf. Then another turn, the canoe
brushing aside the broad lily-pads, and the end of the journey had
come, and, sitting with motionless paddle, he gazed spellbound.
[Illustration]
II.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account