Poems. W. B. Yeats
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My curse upon the beggars, my curse upon them!
TEIG
And the last penny gone.
SHEMUS
When the hen's gone,
What can we do but live on sorrel and dock,
And dandelion, till our mouths are green?
MARY
God, that to this hour's found bit and sup,
Will cater for us still.
SHEMUS
His kitchen's bare.
There were five doors that I looked through this day
And saw the dead and not a soul to wake them.
MARY
Maybe He'd have us die because He knows,
When the ear is stopped and when the eye is stopped,
That every wicked sight is hid from the eye,
And all fool talk from the ear.
SHEMUS
Who's passing there?
And mocking us with music?
(A stringed instrument without.)
TEIG
A young man plays it,
There's an old woman and a lady with him.
SHEMUS
What is the trouble of the poor to her?
Nothing at all or a harsh radishy sauce
For the day's meat.
MARY
God's pity on the rich.
Had we been through as many doors, and seen
The dishes standing on the polished wood
In the wax candle light, we'd be as hard,
And there's the needle's eye at the end of all.
SHEMUS
My curse upon the rich.
TEIG
They're coming here.
SHEMUS
Then down upon that stool, down quick, I say,
And call up a whey face and a whining voice,
And let your head be bowed upon your knees.
MARY
Had I but time to put the place to rights.
(CATHLEEN, OONA, and ALEEL enter.)
CATHLEEN
God save all here. There is a certain house,
An old grey castle with a kitchen garden,
A cider orchard and a plot for flowers,
Somewhere among these woods.
MARY
We know it, lady.
A place that's set among impassable walls
As though world's trouble could not find it out.
CATHLEEN
It may be that we are that trouble, for we—
Although we've wandered in the wood this hour—
Have lost it too, yet I should know my way,
For I lived all my childhood in that house.
MARY
Then you are Countess Cathleen?
CATHLEEN
And this woman,
Oona, my nurse, should have remembered it,
For we were happy for a long time there.
OONA
The paths are overgrown with thickets now,
Or else some change has come upon my sight.
CATHLEEN
And this young man, that should have known the woods—
Because we met him on their border but now,
Wandering and singing like a wave of the sea—
Is so wrapped up in dreams of terrors to come
That he can give no help.
MARY
You have still some way,
But I can put you on the trodden path
Your servants take when they are marketing.
But first sit down and rest yourself awhile,
For my old fathers served your fathers, lady,
Longer than books can tell—and it were strange
If you and yours should not be welcome here.
CATHLEEN
And it were stranger still were I ungrateful
For such kind welcome—but I must be gone,
For the night's gathering in.
SHEMUS
It is a long while
Since I've set eyes on bread or on what buys it.
CATHLEEN
So you are starving even in this wood,
Where I had thought I would find nothing changed.
But that's a dream, for the old worm o' the world
Can eat its way into what place it pleases.
(She gives money.)
TEIG
Beautiful