The lonely of heart must wither away!'

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

I am right happy, and would make all else
Be happy too. I hear a child outside,
And will go bring her in out of the cold.

[_He opens the door. A_ CHILD _dressed in a green jacket with a red
cap comes into the house._

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,