SEELCHEN. He has all things.
THE COW HORN. Mine are the clouds with the dark silvered wings; mine are the rocks on fire with the sun; and the dewdrops cooler than pearls. Away from my breath of snow and sweet grass, thou wilt droop, little soul.
THE WINE HORN. The dark Clove is my fragrance!
THE FLOWERS ring eagerly, and turning up their faces, cry:
"We too, smell sweet."
But the voices of VIEW OF ITALY, FLUME OF STEAM, and THINGS
IN BOOKS cry out:
"I am Italy! Italy!"
"See me—steam in the distance!"
"O remember! remember!"
SEELCHEN. [Distracted] Oh! it is hard!