MY WORLD, when I was a child, you were a little girl-neighbour, a loving timid stranger.
        Then you grew bold and talked to me across the fence, offering me toys and flowers and shells.
        Next you coaxed me away from my work, you tempted me into the land of the dusk or the weedy corner of some garden in mid-day loneliness.
        At length you told me stories about bygone times, with which the present ever longs to meet so as to be rescued from its prison in the moment.

THE POET'S MIND floats and dances on the waves of life amidst the voices of wind and water.
Now when the sun has set and the darkened sky draws down upon the
sea like drooping lashes upon a weary eye it is time to take away his pen, and let his thoughts sink into the bottom of the deep amid the eternal secret of that silence.

I NEGLECTED to appraise your worth
being blindly sure of my possession.
The days followed each other and the nights
carrying your offerings to my feet.
I looked at them through the corner of my eyes
as they were being sent to my storehouse.
April's honeysuckles added their scent to your gifts,
the full moon of the autumn night
touched them with its glimmer.
Often you poured the flood of your dark tresses upon my lap
and your eyes swam with tears while you said:
My tribute to you, my king, is pitifully meagre;
I have failed to give you more, not having any more to give.
The days follow each other and the nights
but you are no longer here today.
I come to open at last my storehouse,
and take up the chain of the jewels,
that came from your hands on my neck.
My pride that remained indifferent
kisses the dust where you left your footprints.
Today I gain you truly
for with my sorrow I have paid the price of your love.