Like flowers in the night—reach me those violets—
It is a flame a single look will kindle,
But not an ocean quench.
Fostered by dreams, excited by each thought,-,
Love is a star from heaven, that points the way
And leads us to its home—a little spot
In earth's dry desert, where the soul may rest—
A grain of gold in the dull sand of life—
A foretaste of Elysium; but when
Weary of this world's woes, the immortal gods
Flew to the skies, with all their richest gifts,
Love staid behind, self-exiled for man's sake!
Ing. I never yet heard aught so beautiful!
But still I comprehend it not.
Par. Nor I.
For I have never felt it ; yet I know
A song my mother sang, an ancient song,
That plainly speaks of love, at least to me.
How goes it? Stay—
"What love is, if thou wouldst he taught,
Thy heart must teach alone,—
Two souls with but a single thought,
Two hearts that beat as one.
And whence comes love? like morning's light,
It comes without thy call;
And how dies love?—A spirit bright,
Love never dies at all!"
And when—and when—
Ing. Go on.
Par. I know no more.
Ing. (Impatiently.) Try—try!
Par. I cannot now; but at some other time
I may remember.
Ing. (Somewhat authoritatively.) Now, go on, I say.
Par. (Springing up in alarm.) Not now, I want more
roses for my wreath!
Yonder they grow, I will fetch them for myself.
Take care of all my flowers and the wreath!
