FREE ME AS free are the birds of the wilds, the wanderers of unseen paths. Free me as free are the deluge of rain, and as the storm that shakes its locks and rushes on to its unknown end. Free me as free is the forest fire, as is the thunder that laughs aloud and hurls defiance to darkness.
PARDON ME, if in my pride, O maiden of a century, yet to be born, I picture you reading my poems, While the moon fills the gaps in my verse with its shower of silence. I seem to feel your heart throb and hear you murmur, 'If I were alive today and had we met he would love me.' I know you say to yourself, 'Only for this night let me light my lamp for him at my balcony, though I know he may never come.'