You are burning me in a flame whereat starved men and women may warm themselves. But you are angry that the winds blow my ashes into your eyes.
BLOW, INVISIBLE MOUTHS!
Did God blow upon a reed (having cut it to His mind), what melodies might not be piped!—what news of glorious birth! To you, beloved Dead, I give my life that is but a reed. Blow, blow, invisible mouths of God!
ANGRY LOVER
Before God’s throne came the angry lover. “I am betrayed!” he cried, and the courts of Heaven rang again with the sound of the word. “Thy daughter Life have I wooed. For her have I given all—yea, all—since that is the price of love, and now, behold, Thou hast given me her dark sister, Death!”
“Yet have I but one daughter,” answered God.
“Is it possible that even yet thou dost not know me?” whispered the veiled one.
HOME
Home!—Home!
All night the orchards sighing and surging.... All night the branches tossing and gesturing against the moon.... All night the scent of the blossom.... But why do they say that I am dead?