MY MASTER HAS bid me while I stand at the roadside, to sing the song of Defeat, for that is the bride whom He woos in secret. She has put on the dark veil, hiding her face from the crowd, but the jewel glows on her breast in the dark. She is forsaken of the day, and God's night is waiting for her with its lamps lighted and flowers wet with dew. She is silent with her eyes downcast; she has left her home behind her, from her home has come that wailing in the wind. But the stars are singing the love-song of the eternal to a face sweet with shame and suffering. The door has been opened in the lonely chamber, the call has sounded and the heart of the darkness throbs with awe because of the coming tryst.
WHEN I ROSE from my sleep I found a basket of oranges at my feet, my mind wondered who could be the giver of such a gift; my guesses flew from one name to another but sweet names were abandoned like flowers in the Spring, and all varied names combined to make this gift a perfect one.
