WHEN I AWAKE in thy love my night of ease will be ended. Thy sunrise will touch my heart with its touch-stone of fire, and my voyage will begin in its orbit of triumphant suffering. I shall dare to take up death's challenge and carry thy voice in the heart of mockery and menace. I shall bare my breast against the wrongs hurled at thy children, and take the risk of standing by thy side where none but thee remains.
ALL THAT I had I gave to you, keeping but the barest veil of reserve. It is so thin that you secretly smile at it and I feel ashamed. The gust of the spring breeze sweeps it away unawares, and the flutter of my own heart moves it as the waves move their foam. My love, do not grieve if I keep this flimsy mist of distance round me. This frail reserve of mine is no mere woman's coyness, but a slender stem on which the flower of my self-surrender bends towards you with reticent grace.