loves die,
And kissing lips must part.

"The dusky bees of passing years
Canst see them, soul of mine--
From flower and flower supping tears,
And pale sweet honey wine?

[His voice grown strange and passionate]

"O flame that treads the marsh of time.
Flitting for ever low.
Where, through the black enchanted slime.
We, desperate, following go
Untimely fire, we bid thee stay!
Into dark air above.
The golden gipsy thins away--
So has it been with love!"

While he is singing, the moon grows pale, and dies. It falls
dark, save for the glimmer of the lamp beneath which he stands.
But as his song ends, the dawn breaks over the houses, the lamp
goes out--THE WINE HORN becomes shadow. Then from the doorway
of the Inn, in the shrill grey light SEELCHEN comes forth. She
is pale, as if wan with living; her eyes like pitch against the
powdery whiteness of her face.

SEELCHEN. My heart is old.

But as she speaks, from far away is heard a faint chiming of
COWBELLS; and while she stands listening, LAMOND appears in the
doorway of the Inn.

LAMOND. Little soul!

SEELCHEN. You! Always you!

LAMOND. I have new wonders.

SEELCHEN. [Mournfully] No.

LAMOND. I swear it! You have not tired of me, that am never the
same? It cannot be.

SEELCHEN. Listen!

The chime of THE COWBELLS is heard again.

LAMOND. [Jealously] The music' of dull sleep! Has life, then, with
me been sorrow?

SEELCHEN. I do not regret.

LAMOND. Come!

SEELCHEN. [Pointing-to her breast] The bird is tired with flying.
[Touching her lips] The flowers have no dew.

LAMOND. Would you leave me?

SEELCHEN. See!

There, in a streak of the dawn, against the plane tree is seen
the Shepherd of THE COW HORN, standing wrapped in his mountain
cloak.

LAMOND. What is it?

SEELCHEN. He!

LAMOND. There is nothing. [He holds her fast] I have shown you the
marvels of my town--the gay, the bitter wonders. We have known life.
If with you I may no longer live, then let us die! See! Here are
sweet Deaths by Slumber and by Drowning!

The mandolin twangs out, and from the dim doorway of the Inn come
forth the shadowy forms. DEATH BY SLUMBER, and DEATH BY DROWNING.
who to a ghostly twanging of mandolins dance slowly towards