William Yeats - Poems

For things well fitted for poor folk like us

Would never please a high-born child like you.

THE CHILD

From dawn, when you must blow the fire ablaze,

You work your fingers to the bone, old mother.

The young may lie in bed and dream and hope,

But you must work your fingers to the bone

Because your heart is old.

BRIDGET

The young are idle.

THE CHILD

Your memories have made you wise, old father;

The young must sigh through many a dream and hope,

But you are wise because your heart is old.

(BRIDGET gives her more bread and honey .)

MAURTEEN

O, who would think to find so young a girl

Loving old age and wisdom?

THE CHILD

No more, mother.

MAURTEEN

What a small bite! The milk is ready now. ( Hands it to her. ) What a small sip!

THE CHILD

Put on my shoes, old mother.

Now I would like to dance now I have eaten,

The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake,

And I would like to dance until the reeds

And the white waves have danced themselves asleep.

(BRIDGET puts on the shoes, and the CHILD is about to dance, but suddenly sees the crucifix and shrieks and covers her eyes .)

What is that ugly thing on the black cross?

FATHER HART

You cannot know how naughty your words are!

That is our Blessed Lord.

THE CHILD

Hide it away!

BRIDGET

I have begun to be afraid again.

THE CHILD

Hide it away!

MAURTEEN

That would be wickedness!

BRIDGET

That would be sacrilege!

THE CHILD

The tortured thing!

Hide it away!

MAURTEEN

Her parents are to blame.

FATHER HART

That is the image of the Son of God.

THE CHILD ( caressing him )

Hide it away, hide it away!

MAURTEEN

No, no.

FATHER HART

Because you are so young and like a bird,

That must take fright at every stir of the leaves,

I will go take it down.

THE CHILD

Hide it away!

And cover it out of sight and out of mind!

(FATHER HART takes crucifix from wall and carries it towards inner room .)

FATHER HART

Since you have come into this barony,

I will instruct you in our blessed faith;

And being so keen witted you'll soon learn.

( To the others. )

We must be tender to all budding things,

Our Maker let no thought of Calvary

Trouble the morning stars in their first song.

( Puts crucifix in inner room. )

THE CHILD

Here is level ground for dancing; I will dance.

( Sings. )

"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."

( She dances. )

MARY ( to SHAWN)

Just now when she came near I thought I heard

Other small steps beating upon the floor,

And a faint music blowing in the wind,

Invisible pipes giving her feet the tune.

SHAWN

I heard no steps but hers.

MARY

I hear them now,

The unholy powers are dancing in the house.

MAURTEEN

Come over here, and if you promise me

Not to talk wickedly of holy things

I will give you something.

THE CHILD

Bring it me, old father.

MAURTEEN

Here are some ribbons that I bought in the town

For my son's wife—but she will let me give them

To tie up that wild hair the winds have tumbled.

THE CHILD

Come, tell me, do you love me?

MAURTEEN

Yes, I love you.

THE CHILD

Ah, but you love this fireside. Do you love me?

FATHER HART

When the Almighty puts so great a share

Of His own ageless youth into a creature,

To look is but to love.

THE CHILD

But you love Him?

BRIDGET

She is blaspheming.

THE CHILD

And do you love me too?

MARY

I do not know.

THE CHILD

You love that young man there,

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.

MARY

Queen of Angels and kind saints defend us!

Some dreadful thing will happen. A while ago

She took away the blessed quicken wood.

FATHER HART

You fear because of her unmeasured prattle;

She knows no better. Child, how old are you?

THE CHILD

When winter sleep is abroad my hair grows thin,

My feet unsteady. When the leaves awaken

My mother carries me in her golden arms;

I'll soon put on my womanhood and marry

The spirits of wood and water, but who can tell

When I was born for the first time? I think

I am much older than the eagle cock

That blinks and blinks on Ballygawley Hill,

And he is the oldest thing under the moon.

FATHER HART

O she is of the faery people.

THE CHILD

One called,

I sent my messengers for milk and fire,

She called again and after that I came.

( All except SHAWN and MARY BRUIN gather behind the priest for protection .)

SHAWN ( rising )

Though you have made all these obedient,

You have not charmed my sight and won from me

A wish or gift to make you powerful;

I'll turn you from the house.

FATHER HART

No, I will face her.

THE CHILD

Because you took away the crucifix

I am so mighty that there's none can pass,

Unless I will it, where my feet have danced

Or where I've whirled my finger-tops.

(SHAWN tries to approach her and cannot .)

MAURTEEN

Look, look!

There something stops him—look how he moves his hands

As though he rubbed them on a wall of glass!

FATHER HART

I will confront this mighty spirit alone;

Be not afraid, the Father is with us,

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 all the nine angelic hierarchies.

( The CHILD kneels upon the settle beside Mary and puts her arms about her .)

Cry, daughter, to the Angels and the Saints.

THE CHILD

You shall go with me, newly-married bride,

And gaze upon a merrier multitude.

White-armed Nuala, Aengus of the Birds,

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.

SHAWN

Awake out of that trance—and cover up

Your eyes and ears.

FATHER HART

She must both look and listen,

For only the soul's choice can save her now.

Come over to me, daughter; stand beside me;

Think of this house and of your duties in it.

THE CHILD

Stay and come with me, newly-married bride,

For if you hear him you grow like the rest;

Bear children, cook, and bend above the churn,

And wrangle over butter, fowl, and eggs,

Until at last, grown old and bitter of tongue,

You're crouching there and shivering at the grave.

FATHER HART

Daughter, I point you out the way to Heaven.

THE CHILD

But I can lead you, newly-married bride,

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 but obedient to the thoughts

That drift into the mind at a wink of the eye.

FATHER HART

By the dear Name of the One crucified,

I bid you, Mary Bruin, come to me.

THE CHILD