(Re-enter the Brothers: MAKINO with bow and arrow in his hand and bamboo sprigs stuck in his belt behind; the BROTHER carrying a long staff to which a round fan is attached.)
BROTHER.
A fine sight are we now!
From priest and laic way alike removed,
Scarce men in speech or form!
MAKINO.
This antic garb shall hide us from the World
More safe than hermit cell;
All earthly thoughts shut out here might we bide
Cloistered in ease. Oh why,
Why back to the bitter World
Are we borne by our intent?
MAKINO and BROTHER.
The flower that has fallen dreams that Spring is done,
There are white clouds to cover
The green hillside ...
MAKINO.
To match the scarlet
Of the autumn leaves
Red sunlight glitters
On the flowing stream.