WHEN THOU commandest me to sing it seems that my heart would break with pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come to my eyes. All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet harmony-and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight across the sea. I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer I come before thy presence. I touch by the edge of the far spreading wing of my song thy feet which I could never aspire to reach. Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee friend who art my lord.
IT WAS GROWING dark when I asked her, 'What strange land have I come to?' She only lowered her eyes, and the water gurgled in thethroat of her jar, as she walked away. The trees hang vaguely over the bank, and the land appears as though it already belonged to the past. The water is dumb, the bamboos are darkly still, a wristlet tinkles against the water-jar from down the lane. Row no more, but fasten the boat to this tree,-for I love the look of this land. The evening star goes down behind the temple dome, and the pallor of the marble landing haunts the dark water. Belated wayfarers sigh; for light from hidden windows is splintered into the darkness by intervening wayside trees and bushes. Still that wristlet tinkles against the water-jar, and retreating steps rustle from down the lane littered with leaves. The night deepens, the palace towers loom spectre-like, and the town hums wearily. Row no more, but fasten the boat to a tree. Let me seek rest in this strange land, dimly lying under the stars, where darkness tingles with the tinkle of a wristlet knocking against a water-jar.
