The wind blows out of the gates of the day, The wind blows over the lonely of heart, And the lonely of heart is withered away. While the faeries dance in a place apart, Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring, Tossing their milk-white arms in the air; For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing Of a land where even the old are fair, And even the wise are merry of tongue; But I heard a reed of Coolaney say, "When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung The lonely of heart is withered away!" MAURTEEN Being happy, I would have all others happy, So I will bring her in out of the cold. (_He brings in the faery child._) THE CHILD I tire of winds and waters and pale lights. MAURTEEN And that's no wonder, for when night has fallen The wood's a cold and a bewildering place, But you are welcome here. THE CHILD I am welcome here. For when I tire of this warm little house There is one here that must away, away. MAURTEEN O, listen to her dreamy and strange talk. Are you not cold? THE CHILD I will crouch down beside you, For I have run a long, long way this night. BRIDGET You have a comely shape. MAURTEEN Your hair is wet. BRIDGET I'll warm your chilly feet. MAURTEEN You have come indeed 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 I have some honey. (_She goes into the next room._) MAURTEEN You have coaxing ways, The mother was quite cross before you came. (BRIDGET _returns with the honey and fills a porringer with milk_.) BRIDGET 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 a while And I will put it to the fire to warm, For things well fitted for poor folk like us Would never please a high-born child like you. THE CHILD From dawn, when you must blow the fire ablaze, You work your fingers to the bone, old mother. The young may lie in bed and dream and hope, But you must work your fingers to the bone Because your heart is old. BRIDGET The young are idle. THE CHILD Your memories have made you wise, old father; The young must sigh through many a dream and hope, But you are wise because your heart is old. (BRIDGET _gives her more bread and honey_.) MAURTEEN O, who would think to find so young a girl Loving old age and wisdom? THE CHILD No more, mother. MAURTEEN What a small bite! The milk is ready now. (_Hands it to her._) What a small sip! THE CHILD