A woman in labor spends a rainy night caught between life and a strange fairy-tale world. The rain outside feels like fingers stroking the window; her pain and fear become elves grinding tiny knives. An Elf-king sits on her heart and flies a kite tied to her breath, so her life—and the baby’s—seems fragile and close to death. The mood is eerie, feverish, and hallucinatory. Then a voice from outside says she has fought hard, that she is all right, and that there is “a splendid boy.” The spell breaks. She insists she is alive—heart, soul, and senses—and longs to see the “Elfin-king,” now perhaps the newborn child. It shifts from anxious, supernatural dread to relief and wonder.
The Birth-Night — Summary
The eerie fingers of the rain All day have stroked my window-pane, While all the day and all the night Elves have been grinding, keen and bright, Weird, tiny knives of nerves and wits. Upon my heart an Elf-king sits ... A cruel, Lilliputian mite ... And by my breath he flies a kite Of hope in life or hope in death. He tugs and scowls with all his might ... The kite depends on my frail breath. I watch the earthly colours bright, Painted upon that fluttering kite.
Little boys fly gay kites And play with marbles ... Little boys laugh and shout In the wind and the sunshine....
Little Boy ... oh little Boy ... were you ever an Elf-king?
The eerie fingers of the rain All day have stroked my window-pane.
Far off I hear a voice explain “She seems to listen to the rain ... She has put up a plucky fight! A splendid boy! Oh she’s all right!”
Elves! Elves! Stop your grinding! Rain! Rain! Stop your stroking! Bright little kite is gaily flying In the sky ... for I’m not dying ... I am alive!... alive!... alive! Heart and soul and senses five!
Now as soon as I can say anything I’ll make them show me that Elfin-king!