She is afraid that she may fail in service to you.

But with a smile you watch her at her game.

You know her.

The child sitting in the dust is your destined bride; her play
will be stilled and deepened into love.



LXII

"What is there but the sky, O Sun, that can hold thine image?"

"I dream of thee, but to serve thee I can never hope," the
dewdrop wept and said, "I am too small to take thee unto me,
great lord, and my life is all tears."

"I illumine the limitless sky, yet I can yield myself up to a
tiny drop of dew," thus the Sun said; "I shall become but a
sparkle of light and fill you, and your little life will be a
laughing orb."



LXIII

Not for me is the love that knows no restraint, but like the