YOU DID NOT know yourself when you dwelt alone, and there was no crying of an errand when the wind ran from the hither to the farther shore. I came and you woke, and the skies blossomed with lights. You made me open in many flowers; rocked me in the cradles of many forms; hid me in death and found me again in life. I came and your heart heaved; pain came to you and joy. You touched me and tingled into love. But in my eyes there is a film of shame and in my breast a flicker of fear; my face is veiled and I weep when I cannot see you. Yet I know the endless thirst in your heart for sight of me, the thirst that cries at my door in the repeated knockings of sunrise.
I THINK I shall stop startled if ever we meet after our next birth, walking in the light of a far-away world. I shall know those dark eyes then as morning stars, and yet feel that they have belonged to some unremembered evening sky of a former life. I shall know that the magic of your face is not all its own, but has stolen the passionate light that was in my eyes at some immemorial meeting, and then gathered from my love a mystery that has now forgotten its origin.
