The Tired Woman

Max Michelson

A present-day myth-play
  The Woman
 Messengers of Rest
 Messengers of Light
 Messengers of Beauty
  The Apparition

 Scene: a street of ugly red-brick rooming-houses. It is
sunny but clouds are visible. The Woman is walking slowly.
Messengers of Rest, clad in dark-grey and carrying a
flowered carpet, appear.

First Messenger, spreading the carpet:
           Bend, grains of wool,
           Keep the blows
           Of the sharp earth
           From her tired feet.

Second and third Messengers:
           Curl under,
           Bend halfway,
           Lift them gently,
           Push them softly.

First Messenger:
           As the sea-children at play
           Carry a ship,
           As the delicate grass-spirits a bird.
  [They disappear. Messengers of Light, dressed in gleam-
ing greyish white, and riding on silver horses with gold reins,
appear. They carry tall urns.]
Messengers of Light, pointing to the cloudy sky:
           Odd-shaped monsters,
           Some with tails and some with wings,
           Pursued us,
           But our gleaming silver horses
           Outran them.
           We see them-
           Hurry-hurry!
 [They pour from the urns something which makes the pieces
of wood and stone shine, and then disappear. Messengers of
Beauty, clad like wall-painters, and carrying long brushes,
appear. |
 First and second Messengers of Beauty, painting the walls
and sprinkling through the open windows:
           Sorrow and squalor
           Fly, fly away!
  Third and fourth Messengers of Beauty:
           Spirit of beauty,
           Spirit of youth,
           Blow on tired hearts,
           Breathe on tired eyes.
  Fifth, sixth and seventh:
           Pop up from your corners,

           Delicate little joys-
           Peeping joys,
           Sleeping joys.
           Wake up-sleeping lights,
           Sleeping colors!

  [The woman sits down on a bench in a little park which
is near. The Apparition comes slowly and sits down on
the edge of the bench.]

  The Apparition:
           Did I frighten you?
           Shall I go away?
  The Woman-in a low voice as if to herself:
           Have I-seen you before?
           Yes . . . yearsago . . . Where?
  The Apparition: .
           Years ago. . . . Yes.
           You were young . . .
  The Woman-dreamily :
           Odorous grasses,
           Trees molten in darkness,
           A mild little wind
           Bounding like a willow,
           Like a playful dog . . .
  The Apparition:
           You were-
The Woman-as before:
         I loved him.
         I was not I-I was a spirit.
         I was borne, borne . . .
The Apparition:
         I know. I knew.
         I knew all.
The Woman:
         I think I can remember
         A glimpse of your face
         In the distance . . . always...
The A pparition-enigmatically :
         Half of your kisses
         Were for me.
The Woman:
         For you? [As if from a trance.]
         I climbed a mountain,
         I waded a thick wood,
         Your face always shone before me.
         The butterfly
         I could not catch . . .
The Apparition:
         And later-in later years-
The Woman:
         Yes,
         In later years-

  The Apparition:
           Even when you were with Whiteley
           That night in New York-

  [The Woman screams and hides her face.]

  The Apparition:
           Even then
           Your hands reached out to me,
           Clutched at me.

  The Woman, raising her tear-stained face a little:
           Its wings shone
           Even in the dark. . . . It was
           Made of light.

  The Apparition:
           I kept each thorn
           From going too deep
           In your soul.
           Each shame
           I washed.
           And the pain
           I soothed,
           Soothed . . .

  [The Woman sits long with lowered head softly crying.
Then she raises her face, and it beams with a strange proud
light. The Apparition walks slowly away.)