The darkness is upon me. You are acorn- planters. You are my brothers. The darkness is upon me and I pass. {Sun Men} _(As total darkness descends.)_ Our brothers follow on the trail we blaze; Where howled the wolf and ached the naked plain Spring bounteous harvests at our brothers' hands; In place of war's alarums, peaceful days; Above the warrior's grave the golden grain Turns deserts grim and stark to laughing lands. EPILOGUE {Red Cloud} Good tidings! Good tidings To the sons of men! Good tidings! Good tidings! War is dead! _(Light begins to suffuse the hillside, revealing Red Cloud far up the hillside in a commanding position on an out-jut of rock.)_ Lo, the New Day dawns, The day of brotherhood, The day when all men Shall be kind to all men, And all men shall be sowers of life. _(From every side a burst of voices.)_ Hail to Red Cloud! The Acorn-Planter! The Life-Maker! Hail! All hail! The New Day dawns, The day of brotherhood, The day of man. _(A band of Warriors appears on hillside.)_ Warriors Hail, Red Cloud! Mightier than all fighting men! The slayer of War! We are not sad. Our eyes were blinded. We did not know one acorn planted Was mightier than an hundred fighting men. We are not sad. Our red work was when The world was young and wild. The world has grown wise. No man slays his brother. Our work is done. In the light of the new day are we glad. _(A band of Pioneers and Sea Explorers appears.)_ Pioneers and Explorers Hail, Red Cloud! The first planter! The Acorn-Planter! We sang that War would die, The anarch of our wild and wayward past. We sang our brothers would come after, Turning desert into garden, Sowing friendship, and not hatred, Planting seeds instead of dead men, Growing men to manhood in the sun. _(A band of Husbandmen appear, bearing fruit and sheaves of grain and corn.)_ {Husbandmen} Hail, Red Cloud! The first planter! The Acorn-Planter! The harvests no more are red, but golden, We are thy children. We plant for increase, Increase of wheat and corn, Of fruit and flower, Of sheep and kine, Of love and lovers; Rich are our harvests And many are our lovers.