And she to me is Love, and only Love.     

       I'll go to her. How can I longer wait?     

       Her nearer presence sets my blood aflame;     

       I'll seize my flower . . .     

  

 [Commences to descend the stairway, then pauses] 

  

       Ah, the song again!     

  

 [Someone sings in the street below] 

       Let naught of fear Youth's laughing steps delay,     

       Aye, gather gladness; pluck it while ye may—     

       We burn not if To-morrow curse or Hess.     

       Who cares—one red bud more, one white bud less?     

       Only we burn that love was meant to spend,     

       And this we burn, that each life hath its end;     

       Therefore, O Youth, snatch all thy happiness.     

  

 [Descends slowly; passes out into the street] 

  

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