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THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE.
25
The Child.
I tire of winds and waters and pale lights!
Maurteen Bruin.
You are most welcome. It is cold out there;
Who'd think to face such cold on a May Eve.
The Child.
And when I tire of this warm little house,
There is one here who must away, away,
To where the woods, the stars, and the white streams
Are holding a continual festival.
Maurteen Bruin.
O listen to her dreamy and strange talk
Come to the fire.
The Child.
I'll sit upon your knee,
For I have run from where the winds are born,
And long to rest my feet a little while.
[She sits upon his knee.
