THE LITTLE flower lies in the dust.
It sought the path of the butterfly.

MY KING, thou hast called me to play my flute at the roadside, that they who bear the burden of voiceless life may stop in their errands for a moment and sit and wonder before the balcony of thy palace gate; that they may see anew the ever old and find afresh what is ever about them, and say, 'The flowers are in bloom, and the birds sing.'

I HAVE SEEN thee play thy music in life's dancing hall; in the sudden leaf- burst of spring thy laughter has come to greet me; and lying among field flowers I have heard in the grass thy whisper.
The child has brought to my house the message of thy hope, and the woman the music of thy love.
Now I am waiting on the seashore to feel thee in death, to find life's refrain back again in the star songs of the night.