DARK CLOUDS have blotted all lights from above; and we caged birds cry and ask you: 'My friend, is it the death moment of creation? Has God withdrawn His blessings from the sky?' Times were when the sudden breath of April would waft the distant fragrance of hope into our hearts, and the morning light would gild the iron bars of our prison with its golden spell and would bring the gladness of the open world into our cage. But, see, it is all dark in the hills yonder, and not a thinnest rift has been made by the scimitar of light cutting through the massive gloom. Our chains today sit heavy on our feet, and not a flush of glow is left in the sky with which to build an illusion of joy. But let not our fear and sorrow pain you, my friend! Come not to sit at the door of our cage to cry with us. Your wings are unfettered. Far away from us you soar beyond all clouds. And from there send us the message in song: 'The light is shining for ever. The lamp of the sun is not out.'
