foaming wine that having burst its vessel in a moment would run
to waste.

Send me the love which is cool and pure like your rain that
blesses the thirsty earth and fills the homely earthen jars.

Send me the love that would soak down into the centre of being,
and from there would spread like the unseen sap through the
branching tree of life, giving birth to fruits and flowers.

Send me the love that keeps the heart still with the fulness of
peace.



LXIV

The sun had set on the western margin of the river among the
tangle of the forest.

The hermit boys had brought the cattle home, and sat round the
fire to listen to the master, Guatama, when a strange boy came,
and greeted him with fruits and flowers, and, bowing low at his
feet, spoke in a bird-like voice--"Lord, I have come to thee to
be taken into the path of the supreme Truth.

"My name is Satyakâma."

"Blessings be on thy head," said the master.