The Acorn-planter: A California Forest Play/Epilogue

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search


     {Red Cloud}
     Good tidings! Good tidings
     To the sons of men!
     Good tidings! Good tidings!
     War is dead!

     (Light begins to suffuse the hillside, revealing
     Red Cloud far up the hillside in a
     commanding position on an out-jut of

     Lo, the New Day dawns,
     The day of brotherhood,
     The day when all men
     Shall be kind to all men,
     And all men shall be sowers of life.

     (From every side a burst of voices.)
     Hail to Red Cloud!
     The Acorn-Planter!
     The Life-Maker!
     Hail! All hail!
     The New Day dawns,
     The day of brotherhood,
     The day of man.

     (A band of Warriors appears on hillside.)
     Hail, Red Cloud!
     Mightier than all fighting men!
     The slayer of War!
     We are not sad.
     Our eyes were blinded.
     We did not know one acorn planted
     Was mightier than an hundred fighting men.
     We are not sad.
     Our red work was when
     The world was young and wild.
     The world has grown wise.
     No man slays his brother.
     Our work is done.
     In the light of the new day are we glad.

     (A band of Pioneers and Sea Explorers

     Pioneers and Explorers
     Hail, Red Cloud!
     The first planter!
     The Acorn-Planter!
     We sang that War would die,
     The anarch of our wild and wayward past.
     We sang our brothers would come after,
     Turning desert into garden,
     Sowing friendship, and not hatred,
     Planting seeds instead of dead men,
     Growing men to manhood in the sun.

     (A band of Husbandmen appear, bearing
     fruit and sheaves of grain and corn.)

     Hail, Red Cloud!
     The first planter!
     The Acorn-Planter!
     The harvests no more are red, but golden,
     We are thy children.
     We plant for increase,
     Increase of wheat and corn,
     Of fruit and flower,
     Of sheep and kine,
     Of love and lovers;
     Rich are our harvests
     And many are our lovers.

     {Red Cloud}
     Death is a stench in the nostrils,
     Life is beauty and joy.
     The planters are ever brothers.
     Never are the warriors brothers;
     Their ways are set apart,
     Their hands raised each against each.
     The planters' ways are the one way.
     Ever they plant for life,
     For life more abundant,
     For beauty of head and hand,
     For the voices of children playing,
     And the laughter of maids in the twilight
     And the lover's song in the gloom.

     {All Voices}
     Hail, Red Cloud!
     The first planter!
     The Acorn-Planter!
     The maker of life!
     Hail! All hail!
     The New Day dawns,
     The day of brotherhood,
     The day of man!