THE NIGHT opens the flowers in secret and allows the day to get thanks.

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.

FAR BELOW flowed the Jumna, swift and clear, above frowned the jutting bank.
Hills dark with the woods and scarred with the torrents were gathered around.
Govinda, the great Sikh teacher, sat on the rock reading scriptures, when Raghunath, his disciple, proud of his wealth, came and bowed to him and said, 1 have brought my poor present unworthy of your acceptance.'
Thus saying he displayed before the teacher a pair of gold bangles wrought with costly stones.
The master took up one of them, twirling it round his finger, and the diamonds darted shafts of light.
Suddenly it slipped from his hand and rolled down the bank into the water.
'Alas,' screamed Raghunath and jumped into the stream.
The teacher set his eyes upon his book, and the water held and hid what it stole and went its way.
The daylight faded when Raghunath came back to the teacher tired and dripping.
He panted and said, I can still get it back if you show me where it fell.'
The teacher took up the remaining bangle and throwing it into the water said, It is there.'