Pissarro Postkutsche von Louveciennes 1870

Pissarro Postkutsche von Louveciennes 1870Pissarro Postkutsche nach Ennery 1877Pissarro Place du Theatre FrancaisPissarro Paysage pres de Pontoise 1874
heal my heart and drown my woe.Rain may fall and wind may blow,And many miles be still to go,But under a tall tree I will lie,And let the clouds go sailing by.Ho! Ho! Ho! they began again louder. They stopped short suddenly. Frodo sprang to his feet. A long-drawn wail came down the wind, like the cry of some evil and lonely creature. It rose and fell, and ended on a high piercing note. Even as they sat and stood, as if suddenly frozen, it was answered by another cry, fainter and further off, but no less chilling to the blood. There was then a thinking of the Riders, but no one spoke of them. They were now reluctant either to stay or go on; but sooner or later they had got to get across the open country to the Ferry, and it was best to go sooner and in daylight. In a few moments they had shouldered silence, broken only by the sound of the wind in the leaves.‘And what do you think that was?’ Pippin asked at last, trying to speak lightly, but quavering a little. ‘If it was a bird, it was one that I never heard in the Shire before.’‘It was not bird or beast,’ said Frodo. ‘It was a call, or a signal – there were words in that cry, though I could not catch them. But no hobbit has such a voice.’No more was said about it. They were all