of Expression, and examine a song; for
example,

_"Der Nussbaum" by Schumann._

The prevailing mood through it is one of quiet gayety, consequently
one demanding a pleasant expression of countenance. The song picture
must rustle by us like a fairy story. The picture shows us the
fragrant nut tree putting forth its leaves in the spring; under it a
maiden lost in reverie, who finally falls asleep, happy in her
thoughts. All is youth and fragrance, a charming little picture, whose
colors must harmonize. None of them should stand out from the frame.
Only one single word rises above the rustling of the tree, and this
must be brought plainly to the hearing of the listening maiden--and
hence, also, of the public--the second "_next_" year. The whole song
finds its point in that one word. The nut tree before the house puts
forth its green leaves and sheds its fragrance; its blossoms are
lovingly embraced by the soft breezes, whispering to each other two by
two, and offer their heads to be kissed, nodding and bowing; the song
must be sung with an equal fragrance, each musical phrase in one
breath: that is, with six inaudible breathings, without ritenuto.

They whisper of a maiden who night and day is thinking, she knows not
of what herself. Between "selber" and "nicht was" a slight separation
of the words can be made, by breaking off the _r_ in "selber" nasally;
and holding the tone nasally, without taking a fresh breath, attacking
the "nicht" anew. In this way an expression of uncertainty is lent to
the words "nicht was."

But now all becomes quite mysterious. "They whisper, they
whisper"--one must bend one's thoughts to hear it; who can understand
so soft a song? But now I hear plainly, even though it be very
soft--the whisper about the bridegroom and the next year, and again
quite significantly, the _next_ year. That is so full of promise, one
can scarcely tear one's self away from the thoughts, from the word in
which love is imparted, and yet that, too, comes to an end!

Now I am the maiden herself who listens, smiling in happiness, to the
rustling of the tree, leaning her head against its trunk, full of
longing fancies as she sinks to sleep and to dream, from which she
would wish never to awaken.

_"Feldeinsamkeit" by Brahms._

This song interprets the exalted mood of the soul of the man who,
lying at rest in the long grass, watches the clouds float by, and
whose being is made one with nature as he does so. A whole