The Washington times., 1922-04-30

When the curtUtu rises IHe beDJu
Is asleep on the rock at the right Of
totoer.
~ EDGAR (suddenly sitting erect,
X bHnktn0) All, 'tis a pity
- good, sound sleep should ever
end. (Ledns forrodrd and looks
up at door, So you're not open
yet, old door, eh? (Rises ard
teperishly tries to open door,
Aw, amt you going to erer openT
You might show just q crack Of
your inside, anyhow. Stingg!
(Sound of approaching footsteps
from right causes him to scramble
to his rock. From right enters
the Poet, thin, pale man. toits
thin, pale roice. His head IN
the air, he todlks along dredmt,y
until he sees the tOtoer and hast
ems to its door,
BEGGAR (QutckIU - Aims for a
poor lame beggap!
POET (tofth a flourish of his hands,
-Alms-I have none.
BEGGAR (grdbs his o,on stomach
UttH OUC NuUu UHttC tHC UtNCT
mains outStretched)~Oh, but I
ask for my hunger. sire! My hun.
ger for bread!
POET-Yours is not the only hunger
in the world. Alas, I have one of
my own! (Grdbs doorknob toith
both hands and tries to force open
the door, And / shall be fed! /
shall! (4ppedling to the door,
o muses., muses., let 1t open! Open
the door-or die of hunger.
(Si0hs, drops his hands. goes to
rock at right of toioer, tohere he
sits peeping, his face in his
hands, Ooh, oh, oh.
BEGGAR-Forsooth, you must have
a long hunger, II 1t has brought
you to dropping tears.
POET (forlornly)-I have felt 1t
since I was born.
BEGGAR-Aw, I've been hungry as
an OK for longer than my belly
will let me remember: but never
could l AFFORD to drop salt tears
wastes too much salt. And my
belly so needs salt for bread.
(Rocks htmselt.) Oh, how 1t needs
the bread, too!
POET-Salt! The salt OF desire!
(Weeps.)
BEGGAR - Father of suffering
pussy-cats! Stop wailing! For
sooth, you make me hungrier!
POET (stops peCping and looks at
him tedrtuHy)-Ah, 'tis hard to
stop, once you've begun. (SighS.,,
Seems to soOthe like great waves
rolling in from the sea.
BEGGAR - Huh, how you people
with brains do fool yourselves.
Just how long have you been hun.
gry for bread, anyhow?
POET (insulted)-I'm not hungry
for bread!
BEGGAR-Ye lolly-pop gods! How
can you wall so If your belly's not
empty? In pretending you shame
our best actor-men. You're won
der Of wonders! (Rises.) What
do you call yourself?
POET-A poet-a hungry poet.
BEGGAR-Indeed. Moves nearer,
interested.) If not for bread, for
what can a poet hunger?
POET-For love!
BEGGAR (sdrcdsticdHy)-For love?
That puny thing that's always
dyingf
POET-lt alone. can make you live
really live!
BEGGAR (scorntully, as he resumes
his seat on the rock)-I breathe
without 1t.
POET-But 1t warns the heart and
makes of the world an Elysian
field OF rose-colored jessamines
where doves have the voices Of
angels and (Beggar Is bO,oIed
over toith hilarious ldughter.) 'Tis
no more Of jest to me than your
bread is to you.
BEGGAR-Bread! Ha, II had 1t
now my teeth would bite into it
and I'd jam 1t through my system
till It was stuffed to the bursting.
POET - Alas, the hunger Of the
stomach Is as nothing when COM
pared to the hunger Of the heart.
BEGGAR - Heart? Your grand
mothers fiddle-sticks!
POET (his emotion causing him to
spring from his rock)-But the
heart-hunger makes you mad with
desire! And love-only sweet
love can still 1t. 'Tis the only food
that satisfies an empty heart!
BEGGAR (fretfully) - Breads the
only food. Eat some and you
won't need this sweet love. What
do you know about the other side
of that door?
POET-That there is abundance Of
food there for all who hunger.
BEGGAR-So you know that, too.
(Sits on steps before door, Amt
1t a wonderful thing to think
abouti In a great golden hall,
yellow as the yolk Of a healthy
egg. is a table-piled higher than
anybody can see-with every kind
of food! Aah, 1t must be a
happy place. (Rises, n,oDes to,odrd
right
POET crushing to door)-But I
don't want to think about the food
that's there! want to get to III
(FumbleS 10Th doorknob.)
BEGGAR-Alas getting through the