THE WHITE BIRDS
There was once a man who had a waking dream. He dreamed he was in a spacious church. He had wandered in to pray, and after his prayers were finished, he knelt on, his eyes open, gazing around at the beauty of the ancient building, and resting in the silence. Here and there in the great building were quiet kneeling figures across the dim darkness of the nave and aisles. Shafts of sunlight streamed into the church from upper windows. In the distance a side door was open, letting in scents of summer air, fragrant with the smell of hay and flowers, and the sight of trees waving in the breeze, and beyond, a line of blue hills, dim and distant as an enchanted land. Presently the man withdrew his eyes from the pleasant outdoor world and looked again at the church. Suddenly, close to the spot where he was kneeling, there was a gentle whir of wings and he saw…
To view this resource, log in or sign up for a subscription plan
