But the stars are singing the love-song of the eternal to a face
sweet with shame and suffering.

The door has been opened in the lonely chamber, the call has
sounded, and the heart of the darkness throbs with awe because of
the coming tryst.



LXXXVI

THANKSGIVING

Those who walk on the path of pride crushing the lowly life under
their tread, covering the tender green of the earth with their
footprints in blood;

Let them rejoice, and thank thee, Lord, for the day is theirs.

But I am thankful that my lot lies with the humble who suffer and
bear the burden of power, and hide their faces and stifle their
sobs in the dark.

For every throb of their pain has pulsed in the secret depth of
thy night, and every insult has been gathered into thy great
silence. And the morrow is theirs.

O Sun, rise upon the bleeding hearts blossoming in flowers of the
morning, and the torchlight revelry of pride shrunken to ashes.