The Land of Heart's Desire by William Butler Yeats (free ebook reader .txt) π
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.
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From maddening freedom and bewildering light.
SHAWN BRUIN.
With every quiet hearth and barren waste,
The maddening freedom of its woods and tides,
And the bewildering lights upon its hills.
MAIRE BRUIN.
To see you smile watching it crumble away.
SHAWN BRUIN.
With no one bitter, grave, or over wise,
And nothing marred or old to do you wrong.
And crowd the enraptured quiet of the sky
With candles burning to your lonely face.
MAIRE BRUIN.
SHAWN BRUIN.
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 for ever; and sun and moor,
Must fade and heaven be rolled up like a scroll;
But your white spirit still walk by my spirit.
For not a power in earth and heaven and hell
Can break this bond binding heart unto heart.
[A VOICE sings in the distance.
MAIRE BRUIN.
Because I have said wicked things to-night.
A VOICE (close to the door).
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 must wither away!'
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
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 a green jacket with a red cap comes into the house.
THE CHILD.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Who'd think to face such cold on a May Eve.
THE CHILD.
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.
Come to the fire.
THE CHILD.
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.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
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.
Old mother, have you nothing nice for me?
BRIDGET BRUIN.
[She goes into the next room.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
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.
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.
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 CHILD.
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.
Loving old age and wisdom.
[BRIDGET gives her more bread and honey.
THE CHILD.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
What a small sip!
THE CHILD.
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.
FATHER HART.
That is Our Blessed Lord!
THE CHILD.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
THE CHILD
Hide it away.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
FATHER HART.
[The CHILD puts her arm round his neck lovingly and kisses him.
THE CHILD.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
FATHER HART.
I will go take it down.
THE CHILD.
And cover it out of sight and out of mind.
FATHER HART (takes it down and carries it towards the inner room).
I will instruct you in our blessed faith:
Being a clever child you will soon learn.
(To the others.)
Our Maker let no thought of Calvary
Trouble the morning stars in their first song.
[Puts the crucifix in the inner room.
THE CHILD.
The wind is blowing on the waving reeds,
The wind is blowing on the heart of man.
[She dances, swaying about like the reeds.
MAIRE (to SHAWN BRUIN).
Other small steps beating upon the floor,
And a faint music blowing in the windβ
Invisible pipes giving her feet the time.
SHAWN BRUIN.
MAIRE BRUIN.
Because the unholy powers are abroad.
MAURTEEN BRUIN (to the CHILD).
Not to talk wickedly of holy things
I'll give you something.
THE CHILD.
[MAURTEEN BRUIN goes into the next room.
FATHER HART.
[MAURTEEN BRUIN returns and lays a piece of money on the table. The CHILD makes a gesture of refusal.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
FATHER HART.
THE CHILD.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
THE CHILD (to MAIRE).
MAIRE BRUIN.
THE CHILD.
Yet I could make you ride upon the winds,
Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame!
MAIRE BRUIN.
Some dreadful fate has fallen: before she came
The wind cried out and took the primroses.
And I gave milk and fire, and when she came
She made you hide the blessed crucifix;
She wears, too, the green jacket and red cap
Of the unholy creatures of the Raths.
FATHER HART.
She knows no better.
(To the CHILD) Child, how old are you?
THE CHILD.
So I am young; but measure by your years
And I am older than the eagle cock
Who blinks and blinks on Ballydawley Hill,
And he's the oldest thing under the moon.
At times I merely care to dance and danceβ
At times grow wiser than the eagle cock.
FATHER HART.
THE CHILD.
I sent my messengers for milk and fire,
And then I heard one call to me and came.
[They all except MAIRE BRUIN gather about the priest for protection. MAIRE BRUIN stays on the settle as if in a trance of terror. The CHILD takes primroses from the great bowl and begins to strew them between herself and the priest and about MAIRE BRUIN. During the following dialogue SHAWN BRUIN goes more than once to the brink of the primroses, but shrinks back to the others timidly.
FATHER HART.
[They cling to him and hold him back.
THE CHILD (while she strews the primroses.)
Can cross these little cressets of the wood.
FATHER HART.
And all the nine angelic hierarchies,
The Holy Martyrs and the Innocents,
The adoring Magi in their coats of mail,
And He who died and rose on the third day,
And Mary with her seven times wounded heart.
[The CHILD ceases strewing the primroses, and kneels upon the settle beside MAIRE and puts her arms about her neck.
THE CHILD.
And gaze upon a merrier multitude:
White-armed Nuala and Ardroe the Wise,
Feacra of the hurtling foam, and him
Who is the ruler of the western host,
Finvarra, and their Land of Heart's Desire,
Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,
But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song.
I kiss you and the world begins to fade.
FATHER HART.
THE CHILD.
For, if you hear him, you grow like the rest:
Bear children, cook, be mindful of the churn,
And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs,
And sit at last there, old and bitter of tongue,
Watching the white stars war upon your hopes.
FATHER HART.
THE CHILD.
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue,
And where kind tongues bring no captivity,
For we are only true to the far lights
We follow singing, over valley and hill.
FATHER HART.
I bid you, Maire Bruin, come to me.
THE CHILD.
[She leaves the settle, and stooping takes up
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