For all hurts and offences to her I come to thee for forgiveness.

I offer to thy service those flowers of my love that remained in
bud when she waited for them to open.



XLVII

I found a few old letters of mine carefully hidden in her box--a
few small toys for her memory to play with.

With a timorous heart she tried to steal these trifles from
time's turbulent stream, and said, "These are mine only!"

Ah, there is no one now to claim them, who can pay their price
with loving care, yet here they are still.

Surely there is love in this world to save her from utter loss,
even like this love of hers that saved these letters with such
fond care.



XLVIII

Bring beauty and order into my forlorn life, woman, as you
brought them into my house when you lived.

Sweep away the dusty fragments of the hours, fill the empty jars,