THE OVERFLOWING bounty of thy grace comes down from the heaven to seek my soul only, wherein it can contain itself. The light that is rained from the sun and stars is fulfilled when it reaches my life. The colour is like sleep that clings, to the flower which waits for the touch of my mind to be awakened. The low that tunes the strings of existence breaks out in music when my heart is won.
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.