VII.
The soul-bird builds her cage herself,—with songs and flapping of her wings,—and enters then its gates all fascinated with the life.
But soon the winged guest, from the infinity, newcomer, striking her prison's trellis-wall, reddens her golden pinions with the ruby blood.
She hushes then in the dusky shadows of her house; a longing eats her heart away for the freedom of the dawn.
Till overcome with pain she strikes her breast against the walls and breaks the cage herself.
With songs and flapping of her wings, from the dusk, called life, she flies away near to the gates of the eternal light.