BARBARA
I must,—I must.
PIPER
Your mother?
BARBARA
[piteously]
I have no mother;
Nor any father, more. He gave me up.
PIPER
That did he!—For a round one thousand guilders!
Weep not, I say. First, loose you, heart and shoes,
From Hamelin. Put off now, the dust, the mould,
The cobble-stones, the little prying windows;
The streets that dream o' What the Neighbors Say.
Think you were never born there. Think some Breath
Wakened you early—early on one morning,
Deep in a Garden (but you knew not whose),
Where voices of wild waters bubbling ran,
Shaking down music from glad mountain-tops,—
Where the still peaks were burning in the dawn,
Like fiery snow,—down into greenest valleys,
That do off their blue mist only to show
Some deeper blue, some haunt of violets.
No voice you heard, nothing you felt or saw,
Save in your heart, the tumult of young birds,
A nestful of wet wings and morning-cries,
Throbbing for flight! . . .
Then,—for your Soul, new wakened, felt athirst,
You turned to where that call of water led,
Laughing for truth,—all truth and star-like laughter!
Beautiful water, that will never stay,
But runs and laughs and sparkles in the heart,
And sends live laughter trickling everywhere,
And knows the thousand longings of the Earth!
And as you drank it then, so now, drink here;
[He reaches her the horn. She has listened, motionless, like a thing bewitched, her eyes fixed and wide, as if she were sleep-walking. She drinks. MICHAEL stands near, also motionless. When she speaks, it is in a younger voice, shy, sweet and full of wonder.
And tell me,—tell me, you,—what happened then?
What do you see?
BARBARA
Ah!—
[She looks before her with wide, new eyes.]
PIPER
Do you see—a—
BARBARA
. . .Michael!
PIPER
So!—And a good one. And you call him?