_Dada_ Is this the Leader? Yes, Dada. _Dada_ Oh, I am so glad you have come. I must read my collection of quatrains. No. No. Not the whole collection, but only one. _Dada_ Very well. One will do. The sun is at the gate of the East, his drum of victory sounding in the sky. The Night says I am blessed, my death is bliss. He receives his alms of gold, filling his wallet,--and departs. That is to say---- No. We don't want your that is to say. _Dada_ It means---- Whatever it means, we are determined not to know it. _Dada_ What makes you so desperate? It is our festival day. _Dada_ Ah! Is that so? Then let me go to all the neighbours---- No, you mustn't go there. _Dada_ But is there any need for me here? Yes. Then my quatrains---- _Chandra_ We shall colour your quatrains with such a thick brush, that no one will know whether they have any meaning at all. And then you will be without any means. The neighbourhood will desert you. The Watchman will take you to be a fool. And the Pundit will take you to be a blockhead. And your own people will consider you to be useless. And the outside people will consider you queer. _Chandra_ But we shall crown you, Dada, with a crown of new leaves. We shall put a garland of jasmine round your neck. And there will be no one else except ourselves who will know your true worth. THE SONG OF THE FESTIVAL OF SPRING [_In which all the persons of the drama, not excepting Sruti-bhushan, unite on the main stage in the dance of Spring._] _Come and rejoice, for April is awake. Fling yourselves into the flood of being, bursting the bondage of the past. April is awake. Life's shoreless sea is heaving in the sun before you. All the losses are lost, and death is drowned in its waves. Plunge into the deep without fear, with the gladness of April in your heart._ * * * * * End of Project Gutenberg's The Cycle of Spring, by Rabindranath Tagore