large/9676/unhappy_far-off_things_1701_librivox_64kb_mp3/unhappyfaroffthings_05_dunsany_64kb_20
large/9676/unhappy_far-off_things_1701_librivox_64kb_mp3/unhappyfaroffthings_05_dunsany_64kb
English
9676
And the writing remains after these two men are gone, and the lonely house is silent but for the wind and the things that creak as it blows, the only message of this deserted house, is this mighty record, this rare line of history, ill written: "Lost by the 156th Wurtemburgers, retaken by the Bermondsey Butterflies." Two men wrote that sentence between them. And, as with Homer, no one knows who they were. AND THE WRITING REMAINS AFTER THESE TWO MEN ARE GONE AND THE LONELY HOUSE IS SILENT BUT FOR THE WIND AND THE THINGS THAT CREAK AS IT BLOWS THE ONLY MESSAGE OF THIS DESERTED HOUSE IS THIS MIGHTY RECORD THIS RARE LINE OF HISTORY ILL WRITTEN LOST BY THE HUNDRED AND FIFTY SIXTH VERTEMBURGERS RE TAKEN BY THE BERMONDSEY BUTTERFLIES TWO MEN WROTE THAT SENTENCE BETWEEN THEM AND AS WITH HOMER NO ONE KNOWS WHO THEY WERE
 the laths of the ceiling gaped, the plaster was gone; of all the hopes men hope that can never be fulfilled, of all desires that ever come too late, most futile was the hope expressed by that stairway's posture that ever a family would come home there again or tread those steps once more. And, if in some far country one should hope, who has not seen Albert, out of compassion for these poor people of France, that where a staircase still remains there may be enough of a house to shelter those who called it home again, I will tell one thing more: there blew inside that house the same wind that blew outside, the wind that wandered free over miles of plains wandered unchecked through that house; there was no indoors or outdoors any more. And on the wall of the room in which I stood, someone had proudly written his regiment's name, The 156th Wurtemburgers. It was written in chalk; and another man had come and had written two words before it and had recorded the name of his own regiment too. THES OF THE CEILING GAPED THE PLASTER WAS GONE OF ALL THE HOPES MEN HOPE THAT CAN NEVER BE FULFILLED OF ALL DESIRES THAT EVER COME TOO LATE MOST FUTILE WAS THE HOPE EXPRESSED BY THAT STAIRWAY'S POSTURE THAT EVER A FAMILY WOULD COME HOME THERE AGAIN OR TREAD THOSE STEPS ONCE MORE AND IF IN SOME FAR COUNTRY ONE SHOULD HOPE WHO HAS NOT SEEN ALBERT OUT OF COMPASSION FOR THOSE POOR PEOPLE OF FRANCE THAT WHERE A STAIRCASE STILL REMAINS THERE MAY BE ENOUGH OF A HOUSE TO SHELTER THOSE WHO CALLED IT HOME AGAIN I WILL TELL ONE THING MORE THERE BLEW INSIDE THAT HOUSE THE SAME WIND THAT BLEW OUTSIDE THE WIND THAT WANDERED FREE OVER MILES OF PLAINS WANDERED UNCHECKED THROUGH THAT HOUSE THERE WERE NO INDOORS OR OUTDOORS ANY MORE AND ON THE WALL OF THE ROOM IN WHICH I STOOD SOME ONE HAD PROUDLY WRITTEN HIS REGIMENT'S NAME THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY SIXTH VERTEMBURGER'S IT WAS WRITTEN IN CHALK AND ANOTHER MAN HAD COME AND HAD WRITTEN TWO WORDS BEFORE IT AND HAD RECORDED THE NAME OF HIS OWN REGIMENT TOO
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