must away, away,
To where the woods, the stars, and the white streams
Are holding a continual festival.

MAURTEEN BRUIN
Oh, listen to her dreamy and strange talk.
Come to the fire.

THE CHILD
I will sit upon your knee,
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
How pretty you are!

MAURTEEN BRUIN
Your hair is wet with dew!

BRIDGET BRUIN
I will warm your chilly feet.

(_She takes the child's feet in her hands._)

MAURTEEN BRUIN
You must have come
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
The wine is bitter.
Old mother, have you no sweet food for me?

BRIDGET BRUIN
I have some honey!

(_She goes into the next room._)

MAURTEEN BRUIN
You are a dear child;
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
She is the child of gentle people; look
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
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
Oh, who would think to find so y