BOY
What is your poem?
GIRL
I saw a purple bird Go up against the sky And it went up and up And round about did fly.
BOY
I saw it die.
GIRL
That doesn"t scan.
BOY
Oh, that doesn"t matter.
GIRL
Do you like my poem?
BOY
Birds aren"t purple.
GIRL
My bird was.
BOY
Oh!
GIRL
Oh, you don"t like my poem!
BOY
Yes, I do.
GIRL
No, you don"t; you think it horrid.
BOY
No. I don"t.
GIRL
Yes, you do. Why didn"t you say you liked it? It is the only poem I ever made.
BOY
I do like it. I do like it.
GIRL
You don"t, you don"t!
BOY
Don"t be angry. I"ll write it on the door for you.
GIRL
You"ll write it?
BOY
Yes, I can write it. My father taught me. I"ll write it with my lump of gold. It makes a yellow mark on the iron door.
GIRL
Oh, do write it! I would like to see it written like real poetry.
[_The Boy begins to write. The Girl watches._
FIRST SENTRY
You see, we"ll be fighting again soon.
SECOND SENTRY
Only a little war. We never have more than a little war with the hill-folk.
FIRST SENTRY
When a man goes to fight, the curtains of the G.o.ds wax thicker than ever before between his eyes and the future; he may go to a great or to a little war.
SECOND SENTRY
There can only be a little war with the hill-folk.
FIRST SENTRY