SHAWN BRUIN

Once a fly dancing in a beam of the sun,
Or the light wind blowing out of the dawn,
Could fill your heart with dreams none other knew,
But now the indissoluble sacrament
Has mixed your heart that was most proud and cold
With my warm heart forever; and sun and moon
Must fade and heaven be rolled up like a scroll;
But your white spirit still walk by my spirit.

(A VOICE sings in the distance.)

                      MARIE BRUIN

Did you hear something call?  Oh, guard me close,
Because I have said wicked things to-night;
And seen a pale-faced child with red-gold hair,
And longed to dance upon the winds with her.

                  A VOICE (close to the door)

The wind blows out of the gates of the day,
The wind blows over the lonely of heart
And the lonely of heart is withered away,
While the faeries dance in a place apart,
Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,
Tossing their milk-white arms in the air;
For they hear the wind laugh, and murmur and sing
Of a land where even the old are fair,
And even the wise are merry of tongue;
But I heard a reed of Coolaney say,
“When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung,
The lonely of heart is withered away!”

                        MAURTEEN BRUIN
  I am right happy, and would make all else
  Be happy too.  I hear a child outside,
  And will go bring her in out of the cold.

    (He opens the door.  A CHILD dressed in pale green and
      with red-gold hair comes into the house.)

                        THE CHILD
  I tire of winds and waters and pale lights!

                        MAURTEEN BRUIN
  You are most welcome.  It is cold out there;
  Who would think to face such cold on a May Eve?

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

                        THE CHILD
                    I will 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 will warm your chilly feet.

(She takes the child’s feet in her hands.)

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.