IN THE morning, when the dew glistened upon the grass, you came and gave a push to my swing; but, sweeping from smiles to tears, I did not know you. Then came April's noon of gorgeous light, and I think you beckoned me to follow you. But when I sought your face, there passed between us the procession of flowers, and men and women flinging their songs to the south wind. Daily I passed you unheeded on the road. But on some days full of the faint smell of oleanders, when the wind was wilful among complaining palm leaves, I would stand before you wondering if you ever had been a stranger to me.
OUR LIFE SAILS on the uncrossed sea whose waves chase each other in an eternal hide-and-seek. It is the restless sea of change, feeding its foaming flocks to lose them over and over again, beating its hands against the calm of the sky. Love, in the centre of this circling war-dance of light and dark, yours is that green island, where the sun kisses the shy forest shade and silence is wooed by birds' singing.
