Of this...?
JOHANNA
Yes—while mother was still living.... And now it has really come. The leaves are red. The golden mist is lying over the woods. The sky is pale and remote—and the day is even more beautiful, and sadder, than I could ever have imagined. And I am spending it in your garden, and your pool is my mirror. (She stands looking down into the pool) And yet we can no more make it stay, this golden day, than the water here can hold my image after I have gone away.
SALA
It seems strange that this clear, mild air should be tinged with a suggestion of winter and snow.
JOHANNA
Why should it trouble you? When that suggestion has become reality here, you are already in the midst of another Spring.
SALA
What do you mean by that?
JOHANNA