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It has not changed with us, this season, yet.
_King Cole:_
Life is as just as Death; Life pays its debt.
_The Showman:_
What justice is there in our suffering so?
_King Cole:_
This: that not knowing, we should try to know.
_The Showman:_
Try. A sweet doctrine for a broken heart.
_King Cole:_
The best (men say) in every manly part.
_The Showman:_
Is it, by Heaven? I have tried it, I.
I tell you, friend, your justice is a lie; Your comfort is a lie, your peace a fraud; Your trust a folly and your cheer a gaud.
I know what men are, having gone these roads.
Poor bankrupt devils, sweating under loads While others suck their blood and smile and smile.
You be an artist on the roads a while, You'll know what justice comes with suffering then.
_King Cole:_
Friend, I am one grown old with sorrowing men.
_The Showman:_
The old are tamed, they have not blood to feel.
_King Cole:_
They've blood to hurt, if not enough to heal.
I have seen sorrow close and suffering close.
I know their ways with men, if any knows.
I know the harshness of the way they have To loose the base and prison up the brave.
I know that some have found the depth they trod In deepest sorrow is the heart of G.o.d.
Up on the bitter iron there is peace.
In the dark night of prison comes release, In the black midnight still the c.o.c.k will crow.
There is a help that the abandoned know Deep in the heart, that conquerors cannot feel.
Abide in hope the turning of the wheel, The luck will alter and the star will rise.
His presence seemed to change before their eyes.
The old, bent, ragged, glittering, wandering fellow, With thready blood-streaks in the rided yellow Of cheek and eye, seemed changed to one who held Earth and the spirit like a king of eld.
He spoke again: "You have been kind," said he.
"In your own trouble you have thought of me.
G.o.d will repay. To him who gives is given, Corn, water, wine, the world, the starry heaven."
Then, like a poor old man, he took his way Back to the city, while the showman gazed After his figure like a man amazed.
_The Wife:_
I think that traveller was an angel sent.
_The Showman:_
A most strange man. I wonder what he meant.
_The Wife:_
Comfort was what he meant, in our distress.
_The Showman:_
No words of his can make our trouble less.
_The Wife:_
O, Will, he made me feel the luck would change.
Look at him, husband; there is something strange About him there; a robin redbreast comes Hopping about his feet as though for crumbs, And little long-tailed t.i.ts and wrens that sing Perching upon him.
_The Showman:_
What a wondrous thing!
I've read of such, but never seen it.
_The Wife:_
Look, These were the dishes and the food he took.
_The Showman:_
Yes; those were they. What of it?
_The Wife:_
Did he eat?
_The Showman:_
