BLESS THIS little heart, this white soul that has won the kiss of heaven for our earth. He loves the light of the sun, he loves the sight of his mother's face. He has not learned to despise the dust, and to banker after gold. Clasp him to your heart and bless him. He has come into this land of an hundred cross-roads. I know not how he chose you from the crowd, came to your door, and grasped your hand to ask his way. He will follow you, laughing and talking, and not a doubt in his heart. Keep his trust, lead him straight and bless him. Lay your hand on his head, and pray that though the waves underneath grow threatening, yet the breath from above may come and fill his sails and waft him to the haven of peace. Forget him not in your hurry, let him come to your heart and bless him.
LAST NIGHT IN the garden I offered you my youth's foaming wine. You lifted the cup to your lips, you shut your eyes and smiled while I raised your veil, unbound your tresses, drawing down upon my breast your face sweet with its silence, last night when the moon's dream overflowed the world of slumber. To-day in the dew-cooled calm of the dawn you are walking to God's temple, bathed and robed white, with a basketful of flowers in your hand. I stand aside in the shade under the tree, with my head bent, in the calm of the dawn by the lonely road to the temple.