roamed through thy lampless house seeking for answers.

From many a heart, pierced with the arrow of joy from the hands
of the Unknown, have burst forth glad chants, shaking the
darkness to its foundation.

Those wakeful souls gaze in the starlight in wonder at the
treasure they have suddenly found.

Make me their poet, O Night, the poet of thy fathomless silence.



XXI

I will meet one day the Life within me, the joy that hides in my
life, though the days perplex my path with their idle dust.

I have known it in glimpses, and its fitful breath has come upon
me, making my thoughts fragrant for a while.

I will meet one day the Joy without me that dwells behind the
screen of light--and will stand in the overflowing solitude where
all things are seen as by their creator.



XXII

This autumn morning is tired with excess of light, and if your