SHAWN BRUIN You are too cross.

BRIDGET BRUIN The young side with the young.

MAURTEEN BRUIN She quarrels with my wife a bit at times, And is too deep just now in the old book!

But do not blame her greatly; she will grow As quiet as a puff-ball in a tree When but the moons of marriage dawn and die For half a score of times.

FATHER HART Their hearts are wild As be the hearts of birds, till children come.

BRIDGET BRUIN She would not mind the griddle, milk the cow, Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth.

FATHER HART I never saw her read a book before; What may it be?

MAURTEEN BRUIN I do not rightly know; It has been in the thatch for fifty years.

My father told me my grandfather wrote it, Killed a red heifer and bound it with the hide.

But draw your chair this way--supper is spread; And little good he got out of the book, Because it filled his house with roaming bards, And roaming ballad-makers and the like, And wasted all his goods.--Here is the wine: The griddle bread's beside you, Father Hart.

Colleen, what have you got there in the book That you must leave the bread to cool? Had I, Or had my father, read or written books There were no stocking stuffed with golden guineas To come, when I am dead, to Shawn and you.

FATHER HART You should not fill your head with foolish dreams.

What are you reading?

MARIE BRUIN How a Princess Edane, A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard A voice singing on a May Eve like this, And followed, half awake and half asleep, Until she came into the Land of Faery, Where n.o.body gets old and G.o.dly and grave, Where n.o.body gets old and crafty and wise, Where n.o.body gets old and bitter of tongue; And she is still there, busied with a dance, Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood, Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top.

MAURTEEN BRUIN Persuade the colleen to put by the book: My grandfather would mutter just such things, And he was no judge of a dog or horse, And any idle boy could blarney him: Just speak your mind.

FATHER HART Put it away, my colleen.

G.o.d spreads the heavens above us like great wings, And gives a little round of deeds and days, And then come the wrecked angels and set snares, And bait them with light hopes and heavy dreams, Until the heart is puffed with pride and goes, Half shuddering and half joyous, from G.o.d's peace: And it was some wrecked angel, blind from tears, Who flattered Edane's heart with merry words.

My colleen, I have seen some other girls Restless and ill at ease, but years went by And they grew like their neighbours and were glad In minding children, working at the churn, And gossiping of weddings and of wakes; For life moves out of a red flare of dreams Into a common light of common hours, Until old age bring the red flare again.

MAURTEEN BRUIN That's true--but she's too young to know it's true.

BRIDGET BRUIN She's old enough to know that it is wrong To mope and idle.

SHAWN BRUIN I've little blame for her; And mother's tongue were harder still to bear, But for her fancies: this is May Eve too, When the good people post about the world, And surely one may think of them to-night.

Maire, have you the primroses to fling Before the door to make a golden path For them to bring good luck into the house?

Remember, they may steal new-married brides After the fall of twilight on May Eve.

(MAIRE BRUIN _goes over to the window and takes flowers from the bowl and strews them outside the door._)

FATHER HART You do well, daughter, because G.o.d permits Great power to the good people on May Eve.

SHAWN BRUIN They can work all their will with primroses; Change them to golden money, or little flames To burn up those who do them any wrong.

MARIE BRUIN (_in a dreamy voice_) I had no sooner flung them by the door Than the wind cried and hurried them away; And then a child came running in the wind And caught them in her hands and fondled them: Her dress was green: her hair was of red gold; Her face was pale as water before dawn.

FATHER HART Whose child can this be?

MAURTEEN BRUIN No one's child at all.

She often dreams that someone has gone by When there was nothing but a puff of wind.

MARIE BRUIN They will not bring good luck into the house, For they have blown the primroses away; Yet I am glad that I was courteous to them, For are not they, likewise, children of G.o.d?

FATHER HART Colleen, they are the children of the fiend, And they have power until the end of Time, When G.o.d shall fight with them a great pitched battle And hack them into pieces.

MARIE BRUIN He will smile, Father, perhaps, and open His great door, And call the pretty and kind into His house.

FATHER HART Did but the lawless angels see that door, They would fall, slain by everlasting peace; And when such angels knock upon our doors Who goes with them must drive through the same storm.

(_A knock at the door._ MAIRE BRUIN _opens it and then goes to the dresser and fills a porringer with milk and hands it through the door, and takes it back empty and closes the door._)

MARIE BRUIN A little queer old woman cloaked in green, Who came to beg a porringer of milk.

BRIDGET BRUIN The good people go asking milk and fire Upon May Eve--Woe on the house that gives, For they have power upon it for a year.

I knew you would bring evil on the house.

MAURTEEN BRUIN Who was she?

MARIE BRUIN Both the tongue and face were strange.

MAURTEEN BRUIN Some strangers came last week to Clover Hill; She must be one of them.

BRIDGET BRUIN I am afraid.

MAURTEEN BRUIN The priest will keep all harm out of the house.

FATHER HART The cross will keep all harm out of the house While it hangs there.

MAURTEEN BRUIN Come, sit beside me, colleen, And put away your dreams of discontent, For I would have you light up my last days Like the good glow of the turf, and when I die I will make you the wealthiest hereabout: For hid away where n.o.body can find I have a stocking full of yellow guineas.

BRIDGET BRUIN You are the fool of every pretty face, And I must pinch and pare that my son's wife May have all kinds of ribbons for her head.

MAURTEEN BRUIN Do not be cross; she is a right good girl!

The b.u.t.ter is by your elbow, Father Hart.

My colleen, have not Fate and Time and Change Done well for me and for old Bridget there?

We have a hundred acres of good land, And sit beside each other at the fire, The wise priest of our parish to our right, And you and our dear son to left of us.

To sit beside the board and drink good wine And watch the turf smoke coiling from the fire And feel content and wisdom in your heart, This is the best of life; when we are young We long to tread a way none trod before, But find the excellent old way through love And through the care of children to the hour For bidding Fate and Time and Change good-bye.

(_A knock at the door._ MAIRE BRUIN _opens it and then takes a sod of turf out of the hearth in the tongs and goes out through the door._ SHAWN _follows her and meets her coming in._)

SHAWN BRUIN What is it draws you to the chill o' the wood?

There is a light among the stems of the trees That makes one shiver.

MARIE BRUIN A little queer old man Made me a sign to show he wanted fire To light his pipe.

BRIDGET BRUIN You've given milk and fire, Upon the unluckiest night of the year, and brought, For all you know, evil upon the house.

Before you married you were idle and fine, And went about with ribbons on your head; And now--no, father, I will speak my mind, She is not a fitting wife for any man--

SHAWN BRUIN Be quiet, mother!