Nearly all the time ’tis blue.

  BRUNHILDA.

  We know not blue, unless we see blue eyes,
  And those we only have with ruddy hair
  And milk-white faces!  Is it always still,
  And does the wind blow never?

  KRIEMHILD.

  Sometimes storms
  O’erwhelm the land, and then the day is night
  With thunderpeals and lightning.

  BRUNHILDA.

  Would it come
  Today!—­’Twould be a greeting from my home! 
  I cannot well endure the brilliant light;
  It pains me and it makes me feel so bare,
  As if no garment here were thick enough! 
  And are those flowers—­red and gold and green?

  KRIEMHILD.  Thou ne’er hast seen them, yet thou know’st their hues?

  BRUNHILDA.  Of precious stones there is with us no lack—­
  Though never white or black ones; yet my hands
  Have taught me white, and raven is my hair.

  KRIEMHILD.  Thou canst not know of fragrance!

  [She plucks a violet for her.]

  BRUNHILDA.

  Oh how sweet! 
  And is’t that tiny flower that breathes it forth—­
  The only one my eye did not observe? 
  I’d love to give the flower a pretty name—­
  But surely it is named.

  KRIEMHILD.

  The little flower
  Is lowlier than all, and none thy foot
  More easily had crushed, for it appears
  To be ashamed that it is more than grass,
  And so it hides its head; but yet it drew
  A gentle word from thee, the first we’ve heard. 
  So let it be a token that within
  Our land is much that’s hidden from thy gaze
  That will delight thee.

  BRUNHILDA.

  That I hope indeed—­
  For I need joy!  Thou know’st not what it is
  To be a woman, yet to overcome
  A man in every combat and to gain
  His strength that ebbs away as flows his blood,
  And from the steaming blood breathe in new force—­
  To feel yourself grow stronger, braver yet,
  And then, when victory is surer still—­

  [Turning suddenly]

  Frigga, I ask again!  What did I see—­
  Before that latest contest, what said I?

  FRIGGA.

  It seemed thy spirit must have seen this land.

  BRUNHILDA.

  This land!

  FRIGGA.

  Thou didst rejoice.

  BRUNHILDA.

  And I rejoiced!—­
  Thine eyes, however, flamed.

  FRIGGA.

  Because I saw
  Thy happiness.

  BRUNHILDA.

  These warriors looked to me
  As white as snow.

  FRIGGA.

  They had been ever so.

  BRUNHILDA.

  Wherefore didst thou conceal the dream so long?

  FRIGGA.

  It is but now that it is clear to me,
  Now that I can compare.

  BRUNHILDA.

  If I rejoiced
  When my prophetic vision saw this land,
  I must rejoice again.