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Of waving branches to each other. For themselves, they have a way of nodding pleasantly. Also of trying on dresses near a rain glass or a snow glass. Also of staying where they happen to be. There are folk who doubt whether they care at all. It would be mean though To censure trees—they're trees. [The lovers come running upon the scene, he chasing her. He throws the basket aside; buttercups fall out.] What animals you are!— Or whether you are Animals, I am too dumb to tell. Some moments, I feel you've come out of the earth, Out of some cool white stone deep down in the earth. Or there brushes past and lurks in a corner The thought that you slipped from a tree When the earth stopped spinning, That a blue shell brought you When the sea tired waltzing. You might be two mice, The dryads of woodpeckers, Or a pure tiny fish dream. You might be something dropped from the sky; Not god-children—I wouldn't have you that— Nor clouds, though I love clouds. You're something not birds, I can tell. If I could find you somewhere outside.
Of me, I might tell— But inside? [The boy catches the girl; she no longer resists; he kisses her.] Said the Mother: She is lovely. Her mouth is red. Give her a kiss— She wants it. - e And when you are through— Give her another! But you don't understand?— Why should you? [Exhausted, the girl draws away. The boy reluctantly builds her a throne of fallen leaves. She sits down; he hands her the buttercups, and some colored scarfs.] Do not make her so happy That when the time comes to make her unhappy She will be so unhappy she will die, lad. Can't you be cross with her? Can't you fail to bring her those buttercups? Can't you twang somewhere else now and then? She'll love you the more? Then hers is the crime if she dies! It isn’t 2 Whose is it? Better make her unhappy at once!. You can’t 2 Well— I don't know what you should do
[The girl, possibly sated with attention, stretches out on the leaves. The boy watches her; comes closer; seems doubtful; stops. Then he sits down near her. Something holds him still; something else draws him still closer.] She wears no scarf over her hair, No mask over her eyes, over her mouth. Nor do you ask her to: thus, you love her. Nor do you see veils round her breasts, Veils down her limbs. Ask you to? I speak to a stone. You love her, thus . . . [The girl is startled. The boy touches her. She looks at him, rouses herself, gets up. He turns aside. She moves away. He does not follow her.] If he were sober He would love you as you wish to be loved, And as he would love you If his muddled thought of you were clear of desire. It is sad that one so young should be drunken so soon, But had you not answered him, Had you not answered him . . I know, I know It wasn't your fault. . . [Slowly the lovers depart in opposite directions.]May the sun blink open your eyes And find the room within all blue, And that tiny broken relic Of the night's unhappiness
Vanish like a moth.
[The boy enters, dejectedly. His movements are indeter
minate, but he stops near the willow.]
You are so straight and still—
Do not the leaves you colored trouble you longer?
[The boy departs. The girl enters, dejectedly. She sits
down near the scattered remains of the throne.]
Girl, is the sap in you tired
[The second boy enters. He looks at the girl. But as the
figure continues, the boy passes aimlessly through.]