THE THRUSH (_his voice jubilantly strong_):
Queen Mab! Queen Mab! Thy hyacinth eyes Have filled the coppice With azure sighs. My loved little queen Of windflower feet, Of daffodil-laughter So primrose-sweet! The rippling wood Is a bluey lake. Queen Mab! Queen Mab! Awake! Awake!
QUEEN MAB (_wide awake now, springs from her couch and curtsies to the World, north, south, east, and west, then raises her arms to the Sun_):
Gold Sun, I greet thee; do not hide thy face Too soon behind the wistful little hills. Thou art my lover, faithless, fickle, fair, And leav'st me all too soon; my kingdom's naught Without thy splendid presence; stay awhile.
Old World, old wrinkled granddame, thee I greet; Thy loving smile renews thy youth once more. For months I slept upon thy broad brown breast; I thank thee, granddame, for so good a rest.
Ye birds that whistle, hares that limping run, And little soft-eared rabbits, velvet shod, Great wayward mortals, with unseeing eyes, I greet you one and all, for Spring has come. Laugh with the sun, muse with the silver showers; Laugh and make merry, Spring is all too fleet, And soon will dance away on flower-loved feet.
_Exit_ QUEEN MAB _in search of her court of butterflies. Above the bird-music is heard the insistent cry of the cuckoo, till the fells re-echo with his calling._
Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Dales of Arcady, by Dorothy Una Ratcliffe