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[And THE FLOWERS moan.] SEELCHEN. [In grief] My heart! It is torn! THE WINE HORN. With me, little soul, you shall race in the streets. and peep at all secrets. We will hold hands, and fly like the thistle-down. M. DANDELION. My puff-balls fly faster! THE WINE HORN. I will show you the sea. GENTIAN. My blue is deeper! THE WINE HORN. I will shower on you blushes. ALPENROSE. I can blush redder! THE WINE HORN. Little soul, listen! My Jewels! Silk! Velvet! EDELWEISS. I am softer than velvet! THE WINE HORN. [Proudly] My wonderful rags! THE FLOWERS. [Moaning] Of those we have none. SEELCHEN. He has all things. THE COW HORN. Mine are the clouds with the dark silvered wings; mine are the rocks on fire with the sun; and the dewdrops cooler than pearls. Away from my breath of snow and sweet grass, thou wilt droop, little soul. THE WINE HORN. The dark Clove is my fragrance! [THE FLOWERS ring eagerly, and turning up their faces, cry:] "We too, smell sweet." [But the voices of VIEW OF ITALY, FLUME OF STEAM, and THINGS IN BOOKS cry out:] "I am Italy! Italy!" "See me--steam in the distance!" "O remember! remember!" SEELCHEN. [Distracted] Oh! it is hard! THE COW HORN. I will never desert thee. THE WINE HORN. A hundred times I will desert you, a hundred times come back, and kiss you. SEELCHEN. [Whispering] Peace for my heart! THE COW HORN. With me thou shalt lie on the warm wild thyme. [THE FLOWERS laugh happily.] THE WINE HORN. With me you shall lie on a bed of dove's feathers. [THE FLOWERS moan.] THE WINE HORN. I will give you old wine. THE COW HORN. I will give thee new milk. THE WINE HORN. Hear my song! [From far away comes the sound as of mandolins.] SEELCHEN. [Clasping her breast] My heart--it is leaving me! THE COW HORN. Hear my song! [From the distance floats the piping of a Shepherd's reed.] SEELCHEN. [Curving her hand at her ears] The piping! Ah! THE COW HORN. Stay with me, Seelchen! THE WINE HORN. Come with me, Seelchen! THE COW HORN. I give thee certainty! THE WINE HORN. I give you chance! THE COW HORN. I give thee peace. THE WINE HORN. I give you change. THE COW HORN. I give thee stillness. THE WINE HORN. I give you voice. THE COW HORN. I give thee one love. THE WINE HORN. I give you many. SEELCHEN. [As if the words were torn from her heart] Both, both--I will love! [And suddenly the Peak of THE GREAT HORN speaks.] THE GREAT HORN. And both thou shalt love, little soul! Thou shalt lie on the hills with Silence; and dance in the cities with Knowledge. Both shall possess thee! The sun and the moon on the mountains shall burn thee; the lamps of the town singe thy wings. small Moth! Each shall seem all the world to thee, each shall seem as thy grave! Thy heart is a feather blown from one mouth to the other. But be not afraid! For the life of a man is for all loves in turn. 'Tis a little raft moored, then sailing out into the blue; a tune caught in a hush, then whispering on; a new-born babe, half courage and half sleep. There is a hidden rhythm. Change. Quietude. Chance. Certainty. The One. The Many. Burn on--thou pretty flame, trying to eat the world! Thou shaft come to me at last, my little soul! [THE VOICES and THE FLOWER-BELLS peal out.] [SEELCHEN, enraptured, stretches her arms to embrace the sight and sound, but all fades slowly into dark sleep.] SCENE III The dark scene again becomes glamorous. SEELCHEN is seen with her hand stretched out towards the Piazza of a little town, with a plane tree on one side, a wall on the other, and from the open doorway of an Inn a pale path of light. Over the Inn hangs a full golden moon. Against the wall, under the glimmer of a lamp, leans a youth with the face of THE WINE HORN, in a crimson dock, thrumming a mandolin, and singing:
"Little star soul [From the Inn comes a burst of laughter, and the sound of dancing.] SEELCHEN: [Whispering] It is the big world! The Youth of THE WINE HORN sings On:
"Pretty grey moth, SEELCHEN. [Gazing enraptured at the Inn] They are dancing! [As SHE speaks, from either side come moth-children, meeting and fluttering up the path of light to the Inn doorway; then wheeling aside, they form again, and again flutter forward.] SEELCHEN. [Holding out her hands] They are real! Their wings are windy. The Youth of THE WINE HORN sings on;
"Lips of my song,
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