Scene First
ARabbitin front of his burrow,Choir of Unseen Birds.
A RabbitIt is the hour when with sweet and solemn voices the two warblers, Black-cap of the Gardens, and Red-wing of the Woods, intone the evening prayer.
A Voice[Among the branches.] O God of Birds!
Another VoiceO God of Birds! or, rather, for the HawkHas surely not the same God as the Wren,O God of Little Birds!
A Thousand Voices[Among the leaves.] O God of Little Birds!
First VoiceWho breathed into our wings to make us light,And painted them with colours of His sky,All thanks for this fair day, for meat and drink—Sweet sky-born water caught in cups of stone,Sweet hedgerow berries washed of dust with dew,And thanks for these good little eyes of oursThat spy the unseen enemies of man,And thanks for the good tools by Thee bestowedTo aid our work of little gardeners,Trowels and pruning-hooks of living horn.
The Second VoiceTo-morrow we will fight borer and blight,Forgive Thy birds to-night their trespasses,The stripping of a currant-bush or two!
The First VoiceBreathe on our bright round eyes and over themThe triple curtain of the lids will close.If Man, the unjust, pay us by casting stones,For filling field and wood and eaves with song,For battling with the weevil for his bread,If he lime twigs for us, if he spread snares,Call to our memory Thy gentle Saint,Thy good Saint Francis, that we may forgiveThe cruelty of men because a manOnce called us brothers, “My brothers, the birds!”
The Second VoiceSaint Francis of Assisi—
A Thousand Voices[Among the leaves.] Pray for us!
The VoiceConfessor of the mavis—
All the VoicesPray for us!
The VoicePreacher to the swallows—
All the VoicesPray for us!
The VoiceO tender dreamer of a generous dream,Who didst believe so surely in our soulThat, ever since, our soul, and ever more,Affirms, defines itself—
All the VoicesRemember us!
The First VoiceAnd by the favour of thy prayers obtainThe needful daily sup and crumb! Amen.
The Second VoiceAmen!
All the Voices[In a murmur spreading to the uttermost ends of the forest.] Amen!
Chantecler[Who, having a moment before stepped from the hollow tree, has stood listening.] Amen!
[The shade has deepened and taken a bluer tinge. The spiderweb, touched by a moonbeam, looks as if sifting silver dust. ThePheasant-hencomes from the tree and followsChanteclerwith little short feminine steps.]