Page 926 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

There were sunspots that summer. End of school. And
tipsycake. Halcyon days.
(Halcyon days, high school boys in blue and white football

jerseys and shorts, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Abraham
Chatterton, Master Owen Goldberg, Master Jack Meredith,
Master Percy Apjohn, stand in a clearing of the trees and shout to
Master Leopold Bloom.)
THE HALCYON DAYS: Mackerel! Live us again.
Hurray! (They cheer)
BLOOM: (Hobbledehoy, warmgloved, mammamufflered,
starred with spent snowballs, struggles to rise) Again! I feel
sixteen! What a lark! Let’s ring all the bells in Montague
street. (He cheers feebly) Hurray for the High School!
THE ECHO: Fool!
THE YEWS: (Rustling) She is right, our sister.
Whisper. (Whispered kisses are heard in all the wood. Faces of
hamadryads peep out from the boles and among the leaves and
break, blossoming into bloom.) Who profaned our silent
shade?
THE NYMPH: (Coyly, through parting fingers) There? In
the open air?
THE YEWS: (Sweeping downward) Sister, yes. And on
our virgin sward.
THE WATERFALL:

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