Sebald. [sings.] Let the watching lids wink! Day's ablaze with eyes, think! Deep into the night, drink!
Ottima. Night? Such may be your Rhine-land nights, perhaps;
But this blood-red beam through the shutter's chink
—We call such light, the morning: let us see!
Mind how you grope your way, though! How these tall
Naked geraniums straggle! Push the lattice
Behind that frame!—Nay, do I bid you?—Sebald,
It shakes the dust down on me! Why, of course
The slide-bolt catches. Well, are you content,