THE CHILD.

And when I tire of this warm little house,
There is one here who must away, away,
To where the woods, the stars, and the white streams
Are holding a continual festival.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

O listen to her dreamy and strange talk,
Come to the fire.

THE CHILD.

I’ll sit upon your knee,
For I have run from where the winds are born,
And long-to rest my feet a little while.

[She sits upon his knee.

BRIDGET BRUIN.

How pretty you are!

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

Your hair is wet with dew!

BRIDGET BRUIN.

I’ll chafe your poor chilled feet.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

You must have come
A long long way, for I have never seen
Your pretty face, and must be tired and hungry;
Here is some bread and wine.

THE CHILD.

They are both nasty. 
Old mother, have you nothing nice for me?

BRIDGET BRUIN.

I have some honey!

[She goes into the next room.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

You are a dear child;
The mother was quite cross before you came.

    [BRIDGET returns with the honey, and goes to the dresser and fills a
    porringer with milk.

BRIDGET BRUIN.

She is the child of gentle people; look
At her white hands and at her pretty dress. 
I’ve brought you some new milk, but wait awhile
And I will put it by the fire to warm,
For things well fitted for poor folk like us
Would never please a high-born child like you.

THE CHILD.

Old mother, my old mother, the green dawn
Brightens above while you blow up the fire;
And evening finds you spreading the white cloth. 
The young may lie in bed and dream and hope,
But you work on because your heart is old.

BRIDGET BRUIN.

The young are idle.

THE CHILD.

Old father, you are wise,
And all the years have gathered in your heart
To whisper of the wonders that are gone. 
The young must sigh through many a dream and hope,
But you are wise because your heart is old.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

O, who would think to find so young a child
Loving old age and wisdom.

    [BRIDGET gives her more bread and honey.

THE CHILD.

No more, mother.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

What a small bite; The milk is ready now;
What a small sip!

THE CHILD.

Put on my shoes, old mother,
For I would like to dance now I have dined. 
The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake,
And I would like to dance until the reeds
And the loud wind, the white wave on the shore,
And all the stars have danced themselves to sleep.

[BRIDGET having put on her shoes, she gets off the old man’s knees
and is about to dance, but suddenly sees the crucifix and shrieks and
covers her eyes.