SHE WHO EVER had remained in the depth of my being, in the twilight of gleams and of glimpses; she who never opened her veils in the morning light, will be my last gift to thee, my God, folded in my final song. Words have wooed yet failed to win her; persuasion has stretched to her its eager arms in vain. I have roamed from country to country keeping her in the core of my heart, and around her have risen and fallen the growth and decay of my life. Over my thoughts and actions, my slumbers and dreams, she reigned yet dwelled alone and apart. Many a man knocked at my door and asked for her and turned away in despair. There was none in the world who ever saw her face to face, and she remained in her loneliness waiting for thy recognition.
I KNOW YOU will win my heart some day, my lover. Through your stars you gaze deep into my dreams; You send your secrets in your moonbeams to me, and I muse and my eyes dim with tears. Your wooing is in the sunny sky thrilling in the tremulous leaves, in the idle hours overflowing with shepherds' piping, in the rain-dimmed dusk when the heart aches with its loneliness.
