many-coloured wings?

And are those your songs that are echoing in the dark eaves of my
being?

Who but you can hear the hum of the crowded hours that sounds in
my veins to-day, the glad steps that dance in my breast, the
clamour of the restless life beating its wings in my body?



LXXIV

My bonds are cut, my debts are paid, my door has been opened, I
go everywhere.

They crouch in their corner and weave their web of pale hours,
they count their coins sitting in the dust and call me back.

But my sword is forged, my armour is put on, my horse is eager to
run.

I shall win my kingdom.



LXXV

It was only the other day that I came to your earth, naked and
nameless, with a wailing cry.