I KNOW THAT the day will come when my sight of this earth shall be lost, and life will take its leave in silence, drawing the last curtain over my eyes. Yet stars will watch at night, and morning rise as before, and hours heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains. When I think of this end of my moments, the barrier of the moments breaks and I see by the light of death thy world with its careless treasures. Rare is its lowliest seat, rare is its meanest of lives. Things that I longed for in vain and things that I got-let them pass. Let me but truly possess the things that I ever spurned and overlooked.
SAILING THROUGH the night I came to life's feast, and the morning's golden goblet was filled with light for me. I sang in joy, I knew not who was the giver, And I forgot to ask his name. In the midday the dust grew hot under my feet and the sun overhead. Overcome by thirst I reached the well. Water was poured to me. I drank it. And while I loved the ruby cup that was sweet as a kiss, I did not see him who held it and forgot to ask his name. In the weary evening I seek my way home. My guide- comes with a lamp and beckons me. I ask his name, But I only see his light through the silence and feel his smile filling the darkness.