Explore "The Return" by Walter de la Mare on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A quiet knocking aroused him in the long, tranquil bedroom; and Herbert's head was poked into the room. "There's a bath behind that door over there," he whispered, "or if you like I'm off for a bathe in the Widder. It's a luscious day. Shall I wait? All right," and the head was withdrawn. "Don't put much on," came the voice at the panel; "we'll be home again in twenty minutes."
The green and brightness of the morning must have been prepared for overnight by spiders and the dew. Everywhere the gleaming nets were hung, and everywhere there rose a tiny splendour from the waterdrops, so clear and pure and changeable it seemed with their fire and colour they shook a tiny crystal music in the air. Herbert led the way along a clayey downward path beneath hazels tossing softly together their twigs of nuts, until they came out into a rounded hollow that, mounded with thyme, sloped gently down to the green banks of the Widder. The water poured like clearest glass beneath a rain of misty sunbeams.