But at high noontide, when it is most bright,
Plunge sudden, like a meteor, into night!
Falk. [in anguish].
What would you, Svanhild?
Svanhild.
We are of the Spring;
No Autumn shall come after, when the bird
Of music in thy breast shall not be heard,
And long not thither where it first took wing.
Nor ever Winter shall his snowy shroud