The voices of View of Italy, Flume of steam, and things in
          books are heard calling out together: 

     “I am Italy, Italy!”

     “See me—­steam in the distance!”

     “O remember, remember!”

The wine Horn.  Love me, little soul!  I paint life fifty colours.  I make a thousand pretty things!  I twine about your heart!

Seelchen.  He is honey!

          Theflowers ring their bells jealously and cry: 

     “Bitter!  Bitter!”

The cow Horn.  Stay with me, Seelchen!  I wake thee with the crystal air.

          The voices of Cowbells and mountain air tiny out far away: 

     “Clinkel-clink!  Clinkel-clink!”

     “Mountain air!  Mountain air!”

          And the flowers laugh happily.

The wine Horn.  Come with me, Seelchen!  My fan, Variety, shall wake you!

          The voices of View of Italy, Flume of steam and things in
          books chant softly: 

     “I am Italy!  Italy!”

     “See me—­steam in the distance!”

     “O remember, remember!”

          And the flowers moan.

Seelchen. [In grief] My heart!  It is torn!

The wine Horn.  With me, little soul, you shall race in the streets. and peep at all secrets.  We will hold hands, and fly like the thistle-down.

M. Dandelion.  My puff-balls fly faster!

The wine Horn.  I will show you the sea.

Gentian.  My blue is deeper!

The wine Horn.  I will shower on you blushes.

ALPENROSE.  I can blush redder!

The wine Horn.  Little soul, listen!  My Jewels!  Silk!  Velvet!

Edelweiss.  I am softer than velvet!

The wine Horn. [Proudly] My wonderful rags!

The flowers. [Moaning] Of those we have none.

Seelchen.  He has all things.

The cow Horn.  Mine are the clouds with the dark silvered wings; mine are the rocks on fire with the sun; and the dewdrops cooler than pearls.  Away from my breath of snow and sweet grass, thou wilt droop, little soul.

The wine Horn.  The dark Clove is my fragrance!

          Theflowers ring eagerly, and turning up their faces, cry: 

     “We too, smell sweet.”

          But the voices of View of Italy, Flume of steam, and things
          in books cry out: