The Pearl Story Book Part 33

(_She turns the handle of the door, which bursts open, and discloses MARCH hastening up, both hands full of violets and anemones._)

Come, show me what you bring; For I have said my say, fulfilled my day, And must away.

MARCH

(_Stopping short on the threshold_)

I blow an arouse Through the world's wide house To quicken the torpid earth; Grappling I fling Each feeble thing, But bring strong life to the birth.

I wrestle and frown, And topple down; I wrench, I rend, I uproot; Yet the violet Is born where I set The sole of my flying foot.

(_Hands violet and anemones to FEBRUARY, who retires into the background._)

And in my wake Frail wind-flowers quake, And the catkins promise fruit.

I drive ocean ash.o.r.e With rush and roar, And he cannot say me nay: My harpstrings all Are the forests tall, Making music when I play.

(_Before MARCH has done speaking, a voice is heard approaching accompanied by a twittering of birds. APRIL comes along singing, and stands outside and out of sight to finish her song._)

APRIL

(_Outside_)

Pretty little three Sparrows in a tree, Light upon the wing; Though you cannot sing You can chirp of Spring: Chirp of Spring to me, Sparrows, from your tree.

Never mind the showers, Chirp about the flowers While you build a nest: Straws from east and west, Feathers from your breast, Make the snuggest bowers In a world of flowers.

(_Appearing at the open door_)

Good-morrow and good-bye: if others fly, Of all the flying months you're the most flying.

MARCH

You're hope and sweetness, April.

APRIL

I've a rainbow in my showers And a lapful of flowers, And these dear nestlings aged three hours; And here's their mother sitting; Their father's merely flitting To find their breakfast somewhere in my bowers.

(_As she speaks APRIL shows MARCH her ap.r.o.n full of flowers and nest full of birds. MARCH wanders away into the grounds. APRIL, without entering the cottage, hangs over the hungry nestlings watching them.

MAY arrives unperceived by APRIL, and gives her a kiss. APRIL starts and looks round._)

Ah, May, good-morrow, May, and so good-bye.

MAY

That's just your way, sweet April, smile and sigh: Your sorrow's half in fun, Begun and done And turned to joy while twenty seconds run.

I've gathered flowers all as I came along, At every step a flower Fed by your last bright shower,--

(_She divides an armful of all sorts of flowers with APRIL, who strolls away through the garden._)

And gathering flowers I listened to the song Of every bird in bower.

Here are my buds of lily and rose, And here's my namesake blossom may; And from a watery spot See here forget-me-not, With all that blows To-day.

(_JUNE appears at the further end of the garden, coming slowly towards MAY, who, seeing her, exclaims:_)

Surely you're come too early, sister June.

JUNE

Indeed I feel as if I came too soon To round your young May moon And set the world a-gasping at my noon.

Yet come I must. So here are strawberries Sun-flushed and sweet, as many as you please; And here are full-blown roses by the score, More roses, and yet more.

(_MAY, eating strawberries, withdraws among the flower beds. JUNE seats herself in the shadow of a laburnum._)

Or if I'm lulled by note of bird and bee, Or lulled by noontide's silence deep, I need but nestle down beneath my tree And drop asleep.

(_JUNE falls asleep; and is not awakened by the voice of JULY, who, behind the scenes, is heard, half singing, half calling._)

JULY

(_Behind the scenes_)

Blue flags, yellow flags, flags all freckled, Which will you take? yellow, blue, speckled!

Take which you will, speckled, blue, yellow, Each in its way has not a fellow.

(_Enter JULY, a basket of many-coloured irises slung upon his shoulders, a bunch of ripe gra.s.s in one hand, and a plate piled full of peaches balanced upon the other. He steals up to JUNE, and tickles her with the gra.s.s. She wakes._)

JUNE

What, here already?

JULY

Nay, my tryst is kept; The longest day slipped by you while you slept.

I've brought you one curved pyramid of bloom,

(_Hands her the plate_)

Not flowers but peaches, gathered where the bees, As downy, bask and boom In sunshine and in gloom of trees.

But get you in, a storm is at my heels; The whirlwind whistles and wheels, Lightning flashes and thunder peals, Flying and following hard upon my heels.

(_JUNE takes shelter in a thickly-woven arbour_)

The roar of a storm sweeps up From the east to the lurid west, The darkening sky, like a cup, Is filled with rain to the brink; The sky is purple and fire, Blackness and noise and unrest; The earth, parched with desire Opens her mouth to drink.

Have done with thunder and fire, O sky with the rainbow crest; O earth, have done with desire, Drink, and drink deep, and rest.

(_Enter AUGUST, carrying a sheaf made up of different kinds of grain._)