]
My harp! As bright as of yore!
[Striking one or two chords.
Still the old chords ring sweet and clear--
On the wall, untouched, thou shalt hang no more.
MARGIT. [Looking out at the back.]
Our guests are coming.
SIGNE. [While GUDMUND preludes his song.]
Hush--hush! Oh, hear!
GUDMUND. [Sings.]
I roamed through the uplands so heavy of cheer;
The little birds quavered in bush and in brere;
The little birds quavered, around and above:
Wouldst know of the sowing and growing of love?
It grows like the oak tree through slow-rolling years;
'Tis nourished by dreams, and by songs, and by tears;
But swiftly 'tis sown; ere a moment speeds by,
Deep, deep in the heart love is rooted for aye.
[As he strikes the concluding chords, he goes towards the
back where he lays down his harp.
SIGNE. [Thoughtfully, repeats to herself.]
But swiftly 'tis sown; ere a moment speeds by,
Deep, deep in the heart love is rooted for aye.
MARGIT.
[Absently.] Did you speak to me?--I heard not clearly--?
SIGNE.
I? No, no. I only meant--
[She again becomes absorbed in dreams.
MARGIT. [Half aloud; looking straight before her.]
It grows like the oak tree through slow-rolling years;
'Tis nourished by dreams, and by songs and by tears.
SIGNE.
[Returning to herself.] You said that--?
MARGIT.
[Drawing her hand over her brow.] Nay, 'twas nothing.
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