WHILE STEPPING into the carriage she turned her head and threw me a swift glance of farewell.
        This was her last gift to me. But where can I keep it safe from the trampling hours?
        Must evening sweep this gleam of anguish away, as it will the last flicker of fire from the sunset?
        Ought it to be washed off by the rain, as treasured pollens are from heart-broken flowers?
        Leave kingly glory and the wealth of the rich to death. But may not tears keep ever fresh the memory of a glance flung through a passionate moment?
'Give it to me to keep,' said my song; I never touch kings' glory or the wealth of the rich, but these small things are mine for ever.'

DO NOT SAY, 'It is morning,' and dismiss it with a name of yesterday. See it for the first time as a new-born child that has no name.

I KNOW NOT from what distant time thou art ever coming nearer to meet me. Thy sun and stars can never keep thee hidden from me for aye.
In many a morning and eve thy footsteps have been heard and thy messenger has come within my heart and called me in secret.
I know not why to-day my life is all astir, and a feeling of tremulous joy is passing through my heart.
It is as if the time were come to wind up my work, and I feel in the air a faint smell of thy sweet presence.