The Nightingale
[In a supplicating sob.] He fought for a friend of mine, the Rose!
The Pheasant-hen
Let him live! And I will dwell in the farmyard beside the ploughshare and the hoe! And renouncing for his sake all that in my pride I made a burden and torment to him, I will own, O Sun, that when you made his shadow you marked out my place in the world!
[Daylight grows. On all sides, rustles and murmurs.]
The Woodpecker
[Singing.] The air is blue!
A Crow
[Cawing as he flies past.] Daylight grows!
The Pheasant-hen
The forest is astir—
All the Birds
[Waking among the trees.] Good-morning! Good-morning! Good-morning! Good-morning! Good-morning!
The Pheasant-hen
Everyone sings!
A Jay
[Darting past like a streak of blue lightning.] Ha, ha!
The Woodpecker
The Jay shakes with homeric laughter.