"Long!" "Long!"--Poor starveling word! Can "long" give any comfort in Love's need? It is her death-doom, blight upon her seed. "My faith is, Love will never pass away"-- That song must cease, and in its stead be heard: "My faith is, that I loved you yesterday!" [As uplifted by inspiration. No, no, not thus our day of bliss shall wane, Flag drearily to west in clouds and rain;-- But at high noontide, when it is most bright, Plunge sudden, like a meteor, into the night! (FALK: What would you, 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 Lay on the clay-cold body of our bliss;-- This Love of ours, ardent and glad and proud, Pure of disease's taint and age's cloud, Shall die the young and glorious thing it is! FALK (in deep pain). And far from thee--what would be left of life?

Svanhild Monologue from Love's Comedy

Rehearse Svanhild's monologue