ON THAT NIGHT when the storm broke open my door. I did not know that you entered my room through the ruins, For the lamp was blown out, and it became dark; I stretched my arms to the sky in search of help. I lay on the dust waiting in the tumultuous dark and I knew not that storm was your own banner. When the morning came I saw you standing upon the emptiness that was spread over my house.
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.
