Веснянки

           Idon’tknowjustexactlywhattheyare,butIrelandhasallthereare,anyway.They’vealotofgreatactors,andafewsingers,andthereneverwasasweeterpoetthanoneoftheirs.Youshouldhearmyfatherrecite’DearHarpofMyCountry.’Hedoesitthisway.”

           TheAngelarose,madeanelaborateold-timebow,andholdingupthebanjo,recitedinclippingfeetandmeter,withrhythmicswingandatouchofbroguethatwassimplyirresistible:

           “Dearharpofmycountry”[TheAngelardentlyclaspedthebanjo],

           “IndarknessIfoundthee”[Sheheldittothelight],

           “Thecoldchainofsilencehadhungo’ertheelong”[Shemutedthestringswithherrosypalm];

           “Thenproudly,myownIrishharp,Iunboundthee”[Shethrewupherheadandsweptaringingharmony];

           “Andgaveallthychordstolight,freedom,andsong”[ShecrashedintothenotesoftheaccompanimentshehadbeenplayingforFreckles].

           “That’swhatyouwanttobethinkingof!”shecried.“Notdarkness,andlonesomeness,andsadness,but’light,freedom,andsong.’Ican’tbegintothinkoffhandofallthebig,splendidthingsanIrishmanhastobeproudof;butwhatevertheyare,theyareallyours,andyouareapartofthem.Ijustdespisethat’saddest-when-I-sing’business.Youcansing!Nowyougooverthereanddoit!Irelandhashadherstatesmen,warriors,actors,andpoets;nowyoubehervoice!Youstandrightouttherebeforethecathedraldoor,andI’mgoingtocomedowntheaisleplayingthataccompaniment,andwhenIstopinfrontofyou—yousing!”

           TheAngel’sfaceworeanunusualflush.