I thought I would write love's words in their own colour; but that lies
deep in the heart, and tears are pale.

Would you know them, friend, if the words were colourless?

I thought I would sing love's words to their own tune, but that sounds only
in my heart, and my eyes are silent.

Would you know them, friend, if there were no tune?



17


In the night the song came to me; but you were not there.

It found the words for which I had been seeking all day. Yes, in the
stillness a moment after dark they throbbed into music, even as the stars
then began to pulse with light; but you were not there. My hope was to sing
it to you in the morning; but, try as I might, though the music came, the
words hung back, when you were beside me.



18


The night deepens and the dying flame flickers in the lamp.