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In the moonless gloom of midnight I ask her, "Maiden, what is

your quest, holding the lamp near your heart? My house is all

dark and lonesome-lend me your light." She stopped for a minute

and thought and gazed at my face in the dark. "I have brought my

light," she said, "to join the carnival of lamps." I stood and

watched her little lamp uselessly lost among lights.

65.

What divine drink wouldst thou have, my God, from this

overflowing cup of my life?

My poet, is it thy delight to see thy creation through my eyes

and to stand at the portals of my ears silently to listen to

thine own eternal harmony?

Thy world is weaving words in my mind and thy joy is adding music

to them. Thou givest thyself to me in love and then feelest thine

own entire sweetness in me.

66.

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.