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PinkMonkey.com-Nicholas Nickelby by Charles Dickens




937

The sun came proudly up in all his majesty, the noble river ran
its winding course, the leaves quivered and rustled in the air, the
birds poured their cheerful songs from every tree, the short-lived
butterfly fluttered its little wings; all the light and life of day came
on; and, amidst it all, and pressing down the grass whose every
blade bore twenty tiny lives, lay the dead man, with his stark and
rigid face turned upwards to the sky.


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PinkMonkey.com-Nicholas Nickelby by Charles Dickens



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