O THE WAVES, the sky-devouring waves, glistening with light, dancing with life, the waves of eddying joy, rushing for ever. The stars rock upon them, thoughts of every tint are cast up out of the deep and scattered on the beach of life. Birth and death rise and fall with their rhythm, and the sea-gull of my heart spreads its wings crying in delight.
I KNOW THAT the flower one day shall blossom crowning my thorns. I know my sorrow shall spread its red rose-leaves opening its heart to the sun. The breeze of the south for which the sky kept watch for weary days and nights shall suddenly make my heart quiver. My love shall bloom in a moment; my shame shall be no more when the flower is ripe for offering. And with the end of the night, at the touch of my friend it will drop at his feet and spend its last petal in joy.
AGES AGO WHEN you opened the south gate of the garden of gods, and came down upon the first youth of the earth, 0 Spring; men and women rushed out of their houses, laughing and dancing, and pelting each other with flower-dust in a sudden madness of mirth. Year after year you bring the same flowers that you scattered in your path in that earliest April. Therefore, to-day, in their pervading perfume, they breathe the sigh of the days that are now dreams-the clinging sadness of vanished worlds. Your breeze is laden with love-legends that have faded from all human language. One day, with fresh wonder, you came into my life that was fluttered with its first love. Since then the tender timidness of that inexperienced joy comes hidden every year in the early green buds of your lemon flowers; your red roses carry in their burning silence all that was unutterable in me; the memory of lyric hours, those days of May, rustles in the thrill of your new leaves born again and again.
