pale morning-light of forgiveness.

O Terrible, they in their reckless greed climbed thy gate at
night, breaking into thy storehouse to rob thee.

But the weight of their plunder grew immense, too heavy to carry
or to remove.

Thereupon I cried to thee and said, Forgive them, O Terrible!

Thy forgiveness burst in storms, throwing them down, scattering
their thefts in the dust.

Thy forgiveness was in the thunder-stone; in the shower of blood;
in the angry red of the sunset.



XXXVII

Upagupta, the disciple of Buddha, lay asleep on the dust by the
city wall of Mathura.

Lamps were all out, doors were all shut, and stars were all
hidden by the murky sky of August.

Whose feet were those tinkling with anklets, touching his breast
of a sudden?

He woke up startled, and the light from a woman's lamp struck his