The gardener, being greedy, imagined a greater gain from him for
whose sake they were bidding. He bowed and said, "I cannot sell
this lotus."

In the hushed shade of the mango grove beyond the city wall Sudâs
stood before Lord Buddha, on whose lips sat the silence of love
and whose eyes beamed peace like the morning star of the
dew-washed autumn.

Sudâs looked in his face and put the lotus at his feet and bowed
his head to the dust.

Buddha smiled and asked, "What is your wish, my son?"

Sudâs cried, "The least touch of your feet."



XX

Make me thy poet, O Night, veiled Night!

There are some who have sat speechless for ages in thy shadow;
let me utter their songs.

Take me up on thy chariot without wheels, running noiselessly
from world to world, thou queen in the palace of time, thou
darkly beautiful!

Many a questioning mind has stealthily entered thy courtyard and