| |
| Sentry [at the Front]: Halt! Who goes there? | |
| A Little Ghost: It is only I, kind sir—you must let me through! | |
| Sentry: Little white thing—stop! | |
| Where do you come from? | |
| These are the lines of the allied armies. | 5 |
| Little Ghost: Sir, I’m the ghost of a dream | |
| That the Prussians have murdered. | |
| Once my robe was so pure, soft, shining; | |
| Once I lived in a deep old forest; | |
| Once they fed me with love and with music. | 10 |
| Now I must go to a far new country— | |
| I and these others, my little white sisters. | |
| Strange new soldier, give me the pass-word— | |
| Kind sir, let us through! | |
| Sentry: God! but this war is a queer war! | 15 |
| Look at ’em—starved white ghosties!— | |
| Waitin’ for me to pass ’em | |
| Beyond our lines! | |
| Me! I’m hard-headed, practical— | |
| I never had any traffic with dreams. | 20 |
| Why, the world’s turned dippy! | |
| Halt, I say! | |
Numberless Little Ghosts [trying to pass him, wailing softly]:
We are the ghosts of dreams | |
| That the Prussians have murdered. | |
| Now we must go to a far new country. | 25 |
| Strange new soldier, give us the password— | |
| Kind sir, let us through! | |
| Sentry: How white and shinin’ their odd wee faces! | |
| Well then, it’s “Christ”—can ye say it, ghosties? | |
All the Little Ghosts [together joyously]:
Now we can search for our far new country! | 30 |
| “Christ” is the password the soldier gives us. | |
Thank you, thank you, kind sir.
[They flock swiftly past him; their tattered filmy rags blow softly against him, and now and then small skeleton hands reach out and touch him gently.] | |
| Sentry: Haven’t ye one that would stay for a bit with me, | |
| Now that I’ve passed the whole lot of ye, ghosties? | |
| Wouldn’t one stay with a dull lonely fellow | 35 |
| Just for the company? | |
| First Little Ghost: I will stay with you, strange new soldier, | |
Where you guard the walls for the world.
[She grows suddenly tall and very beautiful with a shining robe and crown of stars.] | |
All the other Little Ghosts [calling joyfully and softly from far away behind the lines]:
We are the ghosts of dreams | |
| That the Prussians have murdered. | 40 |
| Forbid us not, for we have the password—“Christ.” | |
| |
