Ursel.
September, O, September's in the song—
I will not have September in my heart,
The ending of so much deliciousness,
The year's sad luscious over-ripening.
Yet here's the haysel done with: how it hurt
To rake behind the last dim cart; and now
My soul creeps in me like the low pale night-mist
To know that in a moment past this moment
We shall not hear it slowly any more
Down in the lane where, wisping the close trees,
It follows us like a mournful sound of change.
Although the Summer is but newly kindled,
Tiptoe I over-reach the joy of it
(Ah, little perfect weeks of fruitfulness)
Because I tremble lest it be slipping past me
Before my eagerness will let me feel it.
Must joy for me be ever in things gone?...
Nan, as they set down their burdens to lean the rakes against the wall, where four flails are hung, on the left of the door.
A loitering dull sound is heard of cart-wheels and horse-hooves out in the lane.
Ursel.
Hush, Nan—here come the lads....
They lift their burdens, and stand aside for the cart to enter the barn; but as it comes in sight it passes along the road from the left to the right. It is piled with a roped load of hay; Roger and Mease, in long smocks and flapping hats, knee-breeches and ribbed stockings, accompany it, Roger leading the horse, Mease holding to the shelvings behind with one hand and with the other slanting several hay-forks and a scythe against his shoulder.
Ursel, continuing. What, Roger, Mease....
Why bring you not the cart and top the mow,
To feel in each limb's ebb hay harvest's spent?
Roger, halting.
As we trailed up from Pear-tree Dale past Sheep-mires
Under a thick dew-breath we seemed to steal
As 'tween chill bed-clothes in December nights;
Into the load it soaked two fingers' length,
So now we needs must throw it off and spread it
To wait to-morrow's sun out in the yard
Ere it is ripe to top the sweating stack.
Mease.
Moreover, we are wetter than the crop;
Wherefore be homing, russet-apple-faces,
To take our smocks and dry them off while we
Drink the mulled cider you are going to make.
Roger and Mease go forward with the horse and cart up the road to the right.