How joy was found : $b a fantasyHutchison, Isobel Wylie
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How joy was found : $b a fantasy
Hutchison, Isobel Wylie
English drama -- Scottish authors; Verse drama
I saw the rain-clouds yesterday
Coming up Crianlarich way,
Black as peat and full of dark.
Suddenly God set His mark
Over them all in a rainbow,
And so
I knew
The sun was somewhere getting through,
And, turning, saw him come
Hurriedly over the hills above Tyndrum.
[_She turns and sees Finn looking at her with a wistful
expression._]
What are you thinking about?
FINN
Nothing at all. A dream.
CLIMBER
Look out! They are not what they seem!
FINN
They’re harmless enough. They aren’t real.
CLIMBER
They’re made of stuff
That’s very apt to steal
Intact
Into actual fact.
For instance, look at these.
[_She points to some mountain pansies in the grass._]
FINN
Explain the connection, please.
CLIMBER
Don’t you see it, sumph?
FINN
Umph!
They seem to give you a lot of pleasure.
CLIMBER
[_Sniffing delightedly._]
Yes, without measure.
Don’t they give it you?
FINN
Oh! Well enough.
Though, as a rule, I think
That I prefer a more substantial stuff,
Something to eat or drink,
Yet somehow now I feel dead beat;
I couldn’t stand the sight of meat.
CLIMBER
[_Rapturously._]
Oh, I could feed
On flowers for ever!
FINN
Well, then, you must be very clever.
CLIMBER
[_Hastily._]
Oh no! there is no need.
It happened through a violet’s power,
For that’s my favourite flower.
[_Shyly, in a burst of sudden confidence._]
I’ll tell you how it came about
If you’d care to find out.
FINN
[_Settling himself on the bank._]
All right, I don’t mind if you do;
But it won’t be the same for me as you.
CLIMBER
[_Sitting up and clasping her hands round her knees shyly._]
I was attracted by a violet,
For purple’s my favourite colour, and you get
Such a delightful perfume out of these
When the wind makes a breeze
Among the petals.
God said: “That settles
It. Now she’ll come back here
Another year,
And look for me where she has found her pleasure.”
I did not measure
God’s far arrangement thus; but sure enough
(Since purple’s my favourite colour), when the puff
Of spring cast up her wild young flowery wrack,
I looked to see if the violet were blown back.
[_She begins to lose her self-consciousness. Finn watches
her interestedly._]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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