Drift off with On the Dry Land by Lord Dunsany, a short, tender and beautifully written fable about love and a long life, read aloud by Martin Hewlett on Books at Bedtime, the sleep story series from Calming Anxiety.
The gorgeous night hangs over the marshes, with all its wandering bands of nomad stars, and the first pale light of dawn is rising in the east. For many years, Love has led a man up and down through those perilous marshes. Now, as they reach the safety of dry land at last, Love looks at his companion and sees in the dawn light that his hair has turned white.
The old man sits down wearily on the grass, and Love tells him, "I will leave you now." The old man makes no answer, and only weeps softly. So Love, grieved in his careless little heart, tries to comfort him the only way he knows, by telling him that he was never worth missing at all. He is foolish, he says, and cruel, and the old man will be far better off without him. And still the old man weeps. What Love says next, and who comes up out of the marshes as the morning grows, Dunsany saves for the closing lines.
The story
Transcribed from the audio, so the odd word may be off. Tap any line while it plays to keep the words in step with Martin's voice.
Books at bed time by calming anxiety, on the dry land by Lord Duncamy.
Over the marshes hung the gorgeous night with all his wandering bands of nomad stars, and his whole host of still ones blinked and watched. With a safe dry land to Eastwood, Gray and Colne, the first clear pallet of dawn was coming up above the heads of the immortal gods. Then as they neared at last the safety of dry land, love looked at the man whom he had led for so long through the marshes and saw that his hair was white, for it was shining in the pallet of the dawn. Then they stepped together onto the land, and the old man sat down wary on the grass, for they had wandered in the marshes for many years, and the light of the grey dawn widened above the heads of the gods, and love said to the old man, "I will leave you now."
Then the old man made no answer, but wept softly. Then love was grieved, in his little careless heart, and he said, "You must not be sorry that I go, nor yet regret me, nor care for me at all. I am a very foolish child, and was never kind to you, nor friendly. I never cared for your great thoughts, or for what was good in you, but perplexed you by leading you up and down the perilous marshes."
And I was so heartless that had you perished where I led you, it would have been not to me, and I only stayed with you, because you were good to play with. And I am cruel, and all together worthless, and not such a one as any should be sorry for when I go, or one to be regretted, or even cared for at all. And still, the old man spoke not, but wept softly, and loved grieved bitterly in his kindly heart. And love said, "Because I am so small, my strength has been concealed from you, and the evil that I have done.
But my strength is great, and I have used it unjustly. Often I pushed you from the causeway through the marshes, and cared not if you drowned. Then I mocked you, and caused others to mock you. And often I led you among those that hated me, and laughed when they revenge themselves upon you.
So weep not, for there is no kindness in my heart, but only murder and foolishness, and I am no companion for one so wise as you, but I am so frivolous and silly that I laughed that your noble dreams and hindered all your deeds. See now, you have found me out, and now you will send me away. And here you will live at ease, and undisturbed, have noble dreams of the immortal gods. See now, here is dawn in safety, and there is darkness and peril.
And still the old man wept softly. Then love said, "Is it thus with you, and his voice was grave now and quiet? Are you so troubled? Old friend of so many years, there is grief in my heart for you.
Old friend of perilous ventures, I must leave you now, but I will send my brother soon to you, my little brother there, and he will come up, how to the marshes to you, and will not forsake you, but will be true to you as I have not been true. And dawn grew brighter over the immortal gods, and the old man smiled through his tears, which glistened wondrously in the increasing light. But love went down to the night and to the marshes, looking backward over his shoulder as he went, and smiling beautifully about his eyes. And in the marshes were unto he went in the midst of the gorgeous night, and under the wandering bands of nomad scars, rose shouts of laughter and the sounds of dawn.
And after a while, with his face towards the morning, death, out of the marshes came up, tall and beautiful, and with a faint smile shadowy on his lips, and lifted in his arms the lonely man, being gentle as him, and murmuring with his low deep voice an ancient song, carried him to the morning, to the gods.