Transcribed from the 1914 Chatto & Windus edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org Green rushes, long and thick, standing up above the edge of the ditch, told the hour of the year as distinctly as the shadow on the dial the hour of the day. Green and thick and sappy to the touch, they felt like summer, soft and elastic, as if full of life, mere rushes though they were. On the fingers they left a green scent; rushes have a separate scent of green, so, too, have ferns, very different from that of grass or leaves. Rising from brown sheaths, the tall stems enlarged a little in the middle, like classical columns, and heavy with their sap and freshness, leaned against the hawthorn sprays…
Or read it translated: 日本語 · 中文 · हिन्दी · Español · العربية · Français · বাংলা · Português · Русский · Bahasa Indonesia · اردو · Deutsch · Kiswahili · 한국어