Come, faeries, take me out of this dull house! Let me have all the freedom I have lost; Work when I will and idle when I will! Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, For I would ride with you upon the wind. Run on the top of the dishevelled tide, And dance upon the mountains like a flame. FATHER HART You cannot know the meaning of your words. MARY Father, I am right weary of four tongues: A tongue that is too crafty and too wise, A tongue that is too godly and too grave, A tongue that is more bitter than the tide, And a kind tongue too full of drowsy love, Of drowsy love and my captivity. (SHAWN BRUIN _leads her to a seat at the left of the door_.) SHAWN Do not blame me; I often lie awake Thinking that all things trouble your bright head. How beautiful it is--your broad pale forehead Under a cloudy blossoming of hair! Sit down beside me here--these are too old, And have forgotten they were ever young. MARY O, you are the great door-post of this house, And I the branch of blessed quicken wood, And if I could I'd hang upon the post, Till I had brought good luck into the house. (_She would put her arms about him, but looks shyly at the priest and lets her arms fall._) FATHER HART My daughter, take his hand--by love alone God binds us to Himself and to the hearth, That shuts us from the waste beyond His peace, From maddening freedom and bewildering light. SHAWN Would that the world were mine to give it you, And not its quiet hearths alone, but even All that bewilderment of light and freedom, If you would have it. MARY I would take the world And break it into pieces in my hands To see you smile watching it crumble away. SHAWN Then I would mould a world of fire and dew, With no one bitter, grave or over wise, And nothing marred or old to do you wrong, And crowd the enraptured quiet of the sky With candles burning to your lonely face. MARY Your looks are all the candles that I need. SHAWN Once a fly dancing in a beam of the sun, Or the light wind blowing out of the dawn, Could fill your heart with dreams none other knew, But now the indissoluble sacrament Has mixed your heart that was most proud and cold With my warm heart for ever; the sun and moon Must fade and heaven be rolled up like a scroll; But your white spirit still walk by my spirit. (_A Voice singing in the wood._) MAURTEEN There's some one singing. Why, it's but a child. It sang, "The lonely of heart is withered away." A strange song for a child, but she sings sweetly. Listen, listen! (_Goes to door._) MARY O, cling close to me, Because I have said wicked things to-night. THE VOICE