Part 33 (1/2)

(_She turns the handle of the door, which bursts open, and discloses MARCH hastening up, both hands full of violets and anemones._)

Come, show me what you bring; For I have said my say, fulfilled my day, And must away.

MARCH

(_Stopping short on the threshold_)

I blow an arouse Through the world's wide house To quicken the torpid earth; Grappling I fling Each feeble thing, But bring strong life to the birth.

I wrestle and frown, And topple down; I wrench, I rend, I uproot; Yet the violet Is born where I set The sole of my flying foot.

(_Hands violet and anemones to FEBRUARY, who retires into the background._)

And in my wake Frail wind-flowers quake, And the catkins promise fruit.

I drive ocean ash.o.r.e With rush and roar, And he cannot say me nay: My harpstrings all Are the forests tall, Making music when I play.

(_Before MARCH has done speaking, a voice is heard approaching accompanied by a twittering of birds. APRIL comes along singing, and stands outside and out of sight to finish her song._)

APRIL

(_Outside_)

Pretty little three Sparrows in a tree, Light upon the wing; Though you cannot sing You can chirp of Spring: Chirp of Spring to me, Sparrows, from your tree.

Never mind the showers, Chirp about the flowers While you build a nest: Straws from east and west, Feathers from your breast, Make the snuggest bowers In a world of flowers.

(_Appearing at the open door_)

Good-morrow and good-bye: if others fly, Of all the flying months you're the most flying.

MARCH

You're hope and sweetness, April.

APRIL

I've a rainbow in my showers And a lapful of flowers, And these dear nestlings aged three hours; And here's their mother sitting; Their father's merely flitting To find their breakfast somewhere in my bowers.

(_As she speaks APRIL shows MARCH her ap.r.o.n full of flowers and nest full of birds. MARCH wanders away into the grounds. APRIL, without entering the cottage, hangs over the hungry nestlings watching them.

MAY arrives unperceived by APRIL, and gives her a kiss. APRIL starts and looks round._)

Ah, May, good-morrow, May, and so good-bye.

MAY

That's just your way, sweet April, smile and sigh: Your sorrow's half in fun, Begun and done And turned to joy while twenty seconds run.

I've gathered flowers all as I came along, At every step a flower Fed by your last bright shower,--

(_She divides an armful of all sorts of flowers with APRIL, who strolls away through the garden._)

And gathering flowers I listened to the song Of every bird in bower.