The dawn; the birds' tumultuous clamour grows as the light gradually makes more distinct the rocks, the trees, picking out each from among the grey. The clamour grows and noises mingle— of water slapping along the rocks— all the sounds of the dawn, the early morning, all the early sounds. And more distinct the rocks, the trees, and brighter now the early lighting— when suddenly all these sounds cease— a strange silence and then the sun! |