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THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE.
21
Maire Bruin.
Father, I am right weary of four tongues:
A tongue that is too crafty and too wise,
A tongue that is too godly and too grave,
A tongue that is more bitter than the tide,
And a kind tongue too full of drowsy love,
Of drowsy love and my captivity.
[Shawn Bruin comes over to her and leads her to the settle.
Shawn Bruin.
Do not blame me: I often lie awake
Thinking that all things trouble your bright head—
How beautiful it is—such broad pale brows
Under a cloudy blossoming of hair!
Sit down beside me here—these are too old,
And have forgotten they were ever young.
Maire Bruin.
O, you are the great door-post of this house,
And I the red nasturtium climbing up.
[She takes Shawn's hand but looks shyly at the priest and lets it go.
