But, anyway, this was my bit of unripe verse:
Yesterday my star went down in the deep shadows.
It went lightly
Like the rippling of water;
And many tiny dear things went with it, and I watched them:
I knew that my star would never rise again.
Yesterday my star went down in the deep shadows.
It went softly
Like the half-lights of evening;
And as it went my frantic thoughts pursued it without hoping:
I knew that my star would never rise again.
Yesterday my star went down in the deep shadows.
It went tenderly
Like my friend who loves me;
But since it’s gone the way shows dark—my two eyes are tired watching:
I know that my star will never rise again.
[XXII
THE MESSAGE OF A TENDER SOUL]
“THE MESSAGE of a tender soul,” said my friend Annabel Lee, “is a thing that will go far, oh, so far, and lose nothing of itself.
“When all things in the world are counted the beautiful things are in the greatest numbers. And when all the things in the world are counted the message of a tender soul counts greatly more than many.
“A tender soul receives back no gratitude for its message, and looks for no gratitude, and does not know what gratitude means. And the tenderness of the message is all unmade and all unknown, but is felt for long, long years.