The Origin by Haggard
It had already become day as he opened the big wooden door
and stepped out of the shadows.
The sun had shown behind the eastern forest,
bright and warm in a cloudless sky.
As his eyes closed,
he slowly raised his head.
Gently, the morning wind caressed his face
and rustled through his long hair
The chatter of the birds had become one with the whispers of
the black elders,
melding with the rhythmic babbling of the little brook,
which wound its way to the distance behind the humble grange.
But it has not always been like that.
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