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.
IN THE EVENING my little daughter heard a call from her companions below the window. She timidly went down the dark stairs holding a lamp in her hand, shielding it behind her veil. I was sitting on my terrace in the star-lit night of March, when at a sudden cry I ran to see. Her lamp had gone out in the dark spiral staircase. I asked, 'Child, why did you cry?' From below she answered in distress, 'Father, I have lost myself!'
