The Tired Woman

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.)