Collecte Works Read Online Free Page A

traffic is ended. The last star is a bonded issue.
    Sighing is extinct. I've gone to the morning entry.
    FANCY ANOTHER DAY GONE
    The glare from the brass horn makes sun-brown satin fit smoothly the girl by the window. Even the young man is straight and bright.
    SHE
    Please come. I want you to justify my landscape. (She looks out of the window and lights the late afternoon .)
    HE
    I love you magnificently. I've had every drop of blood from the moonstone put into a venture for you.
    SHE
    (takes his hands) It's a high hurt.
    HE
    The plight of the individual is our happy finale. (Both absorbed by the glow move out.)
    GRANDMOTHER
    (sidling the luminous flood ) She picks and promises and castillates the dew. And he's a tin whistle substitute, works for the wonder constructor who eats and then expectorates when he wants to build a lake where a hill is.
    The family, entering, pales and points after tea-time.
    MOTHER
    Studying? Why so stupid, son.
    STUDY BOY
    (in khaki) They're putting us thru an elemental dog-trot in sargonic culture. We're now at the hammer and fan wheel stage,—star-falling comes next.
    MOTHER
    And this painting, daughter, that you hold so dear . .
    FATHER
    A silk contortion heavily blotched toward the centre.
    DAUGHTER
    He has issued also complaints in vast design.
    BLUE TIE SON
    The very devil of a good thought.
    GRANDMOTHER
    He ate a mushroom for breakfast. He can't be divine anymore.
    MOTHER
    He wears that kind of practitioner's overcoat . .
    BLUE TIE
    He repeatedly assumes his dais.
    FATHER
    All the same, I'd write him and ask what his inventions are.
    DAUGHTER
    He's done a great deal with words that look like pictures.
    FATHER
    I don't suppose a father ever cocktailed his hopes to that.
    (chorus by two small children skipping in and out):
    I don't suppose a man ever, no, I don't suppose a man ever.
    MOTHER
    What unbooked revelry . .
    GRANDMOTHER
    Today let us weep for tomorrow may be fraught with foolishness.
    MOTHER
    ( pauses in front of daughter before going off completely) Darling, you've some bad laughter lines.
    DAUGHTER
    But facts are a mass of coercives.
    (Children dance in to tea-table and away. )
    GRANDMOTHER
    Not a raisin goes to cookie in this house but what they know it.
    STUDY BOY
    (The room grows an even, late daylight—Study boy takes his books nearer the window.) This map has a cherry expedition punctured by toothpicks to rescind a felled hatred. Wind me a furlough. I'm bound to need air.
    SLEEPY SON
    Feathering Heights—how they can dance up there.
    BLUE TIE
    And let their seams out in the wind…
    SLEEPY
    Sweet pillow, Madge. What exquisite tether and release.
    A little difficult, tho, to be a constant wind.
    STUDY BOY
    Oh you don't use the right weapons.
    (small children and Grandmother sing out):
    “Rings on your fingers,
    bells on your toes,”
    Tether your feathers,
    Tar all your foes . .
    DAUGHTER
    Flightful conceit….
    GRANDMOTHER
    Somnambule enchants a wiry daisy, curvets and comes back.
    STUDY BOY
    I prefer my women on paper.
    BLUE TIE
    (looking into cup) Concatenations streaking a bird with a tail-light.
    SLEEPY
    Hang your tea-cup relations.
    BLUE TIE
    (idling about the room, glances over father's shoulder at magazine) Literate man would like to hear from readers interested in talking about things that count.
    STUDY BOY
    What's a dismissed attavater?
    BLUE TIE
    It means the ease comes out of the sound.
    FATHER
    It's what is called imminent custody.
    (piano fortissimo from a nearby key)
    DAUGHTER
    Beethoven's ironworks. (The room is a strong dusk and the window steel-blue)
    (pianoworks)
    STUDY BOY
    Don't invert me. I wasn't so smelted in a long time.
    ( Piano fades along with the family, the Octaves of Point Lessening.) Tomes at the window establish the smoke scene as the night of the mandolin query.
    HE
    Vertebrate lives spread the hour. On the instable count no face line ever vented approach.
    SHE
    Is the midnight capsule ready to gloat?
    HE
    It's only lachrymose and octo-even