THE TURKEY [_Solemnly._] Fate!

THE BLACKBIRD In a thin disguise of gauze!

THE WHITE HEN Oh, a net--at the end of a cane!

THE BLACKBIRD No harm in the cane--it's the kid at the other end of the cane! [_Half aloud, watching the_ b.u.t.tERFLY.] You neat little fop, sailing from rose to rose, to-night you'll be neat as a pin can make you!

ALL [_Watching the cautious approach of the net beyond the wall._]

Nearer--Nearer--Hush! He'll catch it!--No he won't!--Yes, he will!

SUDDENLY OUTSIDE c.o.c.k-a-doodle-doo!

[_At the sound, the_ b.u.t.tERFLY _flies off. The_ NET _wavers a moment, with an effect of disappointment, then disappears._]

SEVERAL HENS What?--Eh?--What was it?

A HEN [_Who having hopped up on a wheelbarrow can follow the flight of the_ b.u.t.tERFLY.] He is off and away, over the meadow.

THE BLACKBIRD [_With ironical emphasis._] It's Chantecler, practicing knight-errantry!

THE PIGEON [_With emotion._] Chantecler!

A HEN He is coming!

ANOTHER HEN He is just outside--

THE WHITE HEN [_To the_ PIGEON.] Now you will see. He's a very fine bird indeed.

THE BLACKBIRD [_Thrusting his head between the bars._] Easy as possible to make, a c.o.c.k!

THE TURKEY [_Admiringly._] Admirable amenity!

THE BLACKBIRD You take a melon--a fine specimen, I will grant,--for the trunk. For the legs, two sticks of asparagus,--prize sticks, of course. For the head, a red pepper,--as handsome as you may find. For the eye, a currant,--exceptionally clear and light. For the tail, a sheaf of leeks, with luxuriant blue-green flags. For the ear, a dainty kidney-bean, --extra, superfine!--And there you have him, there's your c.o.c.k!

THE PIGEON [_Gently._] One thing you have omitted--His heavenly clarion call!

THE BLACKBIRD [_Indicating_ CHANTECLER, _who now appears upon the wall._] Yes, but with the exception of that--slight detail, you must own my portrait is a likeness.

THE PIGEON Not at all. Not in the very least. [_Contemplating_ CHANTECLER _with a very different eye from the_ BLACKBIRD'S.] What I see, beneath that quivering hemlet, is Summer's glorious and favoured knight, who, from a groaning wain at evening borrowing its golden harvest-robe has arrayed himself in this, and lifts it from the dust with a gleaming sickle!

CHANTECLER [_On the wall, in a long guttural sigh._] Coa--

THE BLACKBIRD When he makes that noise in his throat, he either is in love, or preparing some poetic outburst.

CHANTECLER [_Motionless on the wall, with head high._] Blaze forth in glory!--Dazzle--

THE BLACKBIRD He's letting off hot air!

CHANTECLER Irradiate the world!

A HEN Now he pauses--one claw lifted--

CHANTECLER [_In a sort of groan of excessive tenderness._] Coa--

THE BLACKBIRD That, if you please, is ecstasy!

CHANTECLER Thy gold is of all gold alone beneficent! I worship thee!

THE PIGEON [_Under breath._] To whom is he talking?

THE BLACKBIRD [_Sneering._] To the sun, sonny, the sun!

CHANTECLER O thou that driest the tears of the meanest among weeds And dost of a dead flower make a living b.u.t.terfly-- Thy miracle, wherever almond-trees Shower down the wind their scented shreds, Dead petals dancing in a living swarm-- I worship thee, O Sun! whose ample light, Blessing every forehead, ripening every fruit, Entering every flower and every hovel, Pours itself forth and yet is never less, Still spending and unspent--like mother's love!

I sing of thee, and will be thy high priest, Who disdainest not to gla.s.s thy shining face In the humble basin of blue suds, Or see the lightning of thy last farewell Reflected in an humble cottage pane!

THE BLACKBIRD [_Thrusting out his head._] Can't call it off now, boys, he's started on an ode!

THE TURKEY [_Watching_ CHANTECLER _as by a series of stately hops he comes down a pile of hay._] Here he comes, prouder than--

A HEN [_Stopping in front of a small tin cone._] See there! The new-fangled drinking-trough! [_She drinks._] Handy!

THE BLACKBIRD Prouder than a drum major chanting as he marches: "My country, 'tis of thee!"

CHANTECLER [_Beginning to walk about the yard._]

Thou smilest on the--

ALL THE HENS [_Rushing to the_ WHITE HEN _who is eating something._] What's she eating?

THE WHITE HEN Corn. Nothing but corn.

CHANTECLER Thou smilest on the sunflower craning after thee, And burnishest my brother of the vane, And softly sifting through the linden-trees Strewest the ground with dappled gold, So fine there's no more walking where it lies.

Through thee the earthen pot is an enamelled urn, The clout hung out to dry a n.o.ble banner, The hay-rick by thy favour boasts a golden cape, And the rick's little sister, the thatched hive, Wears, by thy grace, a hood of gold!

Glory to thee in the vineyards! Glory to thee in the fields!

Glory among the gra.s.s and on the roofs, In eyes of lizards and on wings of swans,-- Artist who making splendid the great things Forgets not to make exquisite the small!

'Tis thou that, cutting out a silhouette, To all thou beamest on dost fasten this dark twin, Doubling the number of delightful shapes, Appointing to each thing its shadow, More charming often than itself.

I praise thee, Sun! Thou sheddest roses on the air, Diamonds on the stream, enchantment on the hill; A poor dull tree thou takest and turnest to green rapture, O Sun, without whose golden magic--things Would be no more than what they are!

THE PIGEON Bravo! I shall have something to tell my mate. We shall long talk of this!

CHANTECLER [_Seeing him, with n.o.ble courtesy._] Young blue-winged stranger, with new-fledged bill, thanks! Pray lay my duty at her coral feet!

[_The_ PIGEON _flies off._]

THE BLACKBIRD Jolly your admirers, it pays!