Pride shone in her eyes for a moment, then it was dimmed in
tears.

"I have no joy in conquest," she cried, the woman in sorrow.

I asked her, "Tell me whom do you seek?"

She only said, "I wait for him of the unknown name."

Days pass by and she cries, "When will my beloved come whom I
know not, and be known to me for ever?"



LVIII

Yours is the light that breaks forth from the dark, and the good
that sprouts from the cleft heart of strife.

Yours is the house that opens upon the world, and the love that
calls to the battlefield.

Yours is the gift that still is a gain when everything is a loss,
and the life that flows through the caverns of death.

Yours is the heaven that lies in the common dust, and you are
there for me, you are there for all.