Part 17 (2/2)

We rush into the arms of the ever-returning.

But who are you?

I am the flower s.h.i.+mul.

And who are you?

I am the kamini bunch, And who are these?

We are the jostling crowd of new leaves._

[_Winter is revealed as Spring and answers to the questions put by the chorus of young things._]

THE SONG OF BURDENS DROPPED

_Do you own defeat at the hand of youth?

Yes.

Have you met at last the ageless Old, who ever grows new?

Yes.

Have you come out of the walls that crumble and bury those whom they shelter?

Yes._

(_Another group sings._)

_Do you own defeat at the hands of life?

Yes.

Have you pa.s.sed through death to stand at last face to face with the Deathless?

Yes.

Have you dealt the blow to the demon dust, that swallows your city Immortal?

Yes._

(_Spring's flowers surround him and sing._)

THE SONG OF FRESH BEAUTY

_We waited by the wayside counting moments till you appeared in the April morning.

You come as a soldier-boy winning life at death's gate,-- Oh, the wonder of it.

We listen amazed at the music of your young voice.

Your mantle is blown in the wind like the fragrance of the Spring.

The white spray of_ malati _flowers in your hair s.h.i.+nes like star-cl.u.s.ters.

A fire burns through the veil of your smile,-- Oh, the wonder of it.

And who knows where your arrows are hidden which smite death?_

(_Night_)

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