I took heed and saw a young couple approaching my arbor. They sat under a tree where I could see them without being seen.

After he looked about in every direction, I heard the young man saying, “Sit by me, my beloved, and listen to my heart; smile, for your happiness is a symbol of our future; be merry, for the sparkling days rejoice with us.

My soul is warning me of the doubt in your heart, for doubt in love is a sin.

Soon you will be the owner of this vast land, lighted by this beautiful moon; soon you will be the mistress of my palace, and all the servants and maids will obey your commands.

Smile, my beloved, like the gold smiles from my father’s coffers.

My heart refuses to deny you its secret. Twelve months of comfort and travel await us; for a year we will spend my father’s gold at the blue lakes of Switzerland, and viewing the edifices of Italy and Egypt, and resting under the Holy Cedars of Lebanon; you will meet the princesses who will envy you for your jewels and clothes.

All these things I will do for you; will you be satisfied?”

In a little while I saw them walking and stepping on flowers as the rich step upon the hearts of the poor. As they disappeared from my sight, I commenced to make comparison between love and money, and to analyze their position in my heart.

Money! The source of insincere love; the spring of false light and fortune; the well of poisoned water; the desperation of old age!

I was still wandering in the vast desert of contemplation when a forlorn and specter-like couple passed by me and sat on the grass; a young man and a young woman who had left their farming shacks in the nearby fields for this cool and solitary place.

After a few moments of complete silence, I heard the following words uttered with sighs from weather-bitten lips, “Shed not tears, my beloved; love that opens our eyes and enslaves our hearts can give us the blessings of patience. Be consoled in our delay, for we have taken an oath and entered Love’s shrine; for our love will ever grow in adversity; for it is in Love’s name that we are suffering the obstacles of poverty and the sharpness of misery and the emptiness of separation. I shall attack these hardships until I triumph and place in your hands a strength that will help over all things to complete the journey of life.

Love—which is God—will consider our sighs and tears as incense burned at His altar and He will reward us with fortitude. Good-bye, my beloved; I must leave before the heartening moon vanishes.”

A pure voice, combined of the consuming flame of love, and the hopeless bitterness of longing and the resolved sweetness of patience, said, “Good-bye, my beloved.”

They separated, and the elegy to their union was smothered by the wails of my crying heart.

I looked upon slumbering Nature, and with deep reflection discovered the reality of a vast and infinite thing—something no power could demand, influence acquire, or riches purchase. Nor could it be effaced by the tears of time or deadened by sorrow; a thing which cannot be discovered by the blue lakes of Switzerland or the beautiful edifices of Italy.

It is something that gathers strength with patience, grows despite obstacles, warms in winter, flourishes in spring, casts a breeze in summer, and bears fruit in autumn—I found Love.

Song of the Flower

I AM A KIND word uttered and repeated

By the voice of Nature;

I am a star fallen from the

Blue tent upon the green carpet.

I am the daughter of the elements

With whom Winter conceived;

To whom Spring gave birth; I was

Reared in the lap of Summer and I

Slept in the bed of Autumn.

At dawn I unite with the breeze

To announce the coming of light;

At eventide I join the birds

In bidding the light farewell.

The plains are decorated with

My beautiful colors, and the air

Is scented with my fragrance.

As I embrace Slumber the eyes of

Night watch over me, and as I

Awaken I stare at the sun, which is

The only eye of the day.

I drink dew for wine, and harken to

The voices of the birds, and dance

To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.

I am the lover’s gift; I am the wedding wreath;

I am the memory of a moment of happiness;

I am the last gift of the living to the dead;

I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.

But I look up high to see only the light,

And never look down to see my shadow.

This is wisdom which man must learn.

Vision

THERE IN THE middle of the field, by the side of a crystalline stream, I saw a bird-cage whose rods and hinges were fashioned by an expert’s hands. In one corner lay a dead bird, and in another were two basins—one empty of water and the other of seeds. I stood there reverently, as if the lifeless bird and the murmur of the water were worthy of deep silence and respect—something worthy of examination and meditation by the heart and conscience.

As I engrossed myself in view and thought, I found that the poor creature had died of thirst beside a stream of water, and of hunger in the midst of a rich field, cradle of life; like a rich man locked inside his iron safe, perishing from hunger amid heaps of gold.

Before my eyes I saw the cage turned suddenly into a human skeleton, and the dead bird into a man’s heart which was bleeding from a deep wound that looked like the lips of a sorrowing woman. A voice came from that wound saying, “I am the human heart, prisoner of substance and victim of earthly laws.

In God’s field of Beauty, at the edge of the stream of life, I was imprisoned in the cage of laws made by man.

In the center of beautiful Creation I died neglected because I was kept from enjoying the freedom of God’s bounty.

Every thing of beauty that awakens my love and desire is a disgrace, according to man’s conceptions; everything of goodness that I crave is but naught, according to his judgment.

I am the lost human heart, imprisoned in the foul dungeon of man’s dictates, tied with chains of earthly authority, dead and forgotten by laughing humanity whose tongue is tied and whose eyes are empty of visible tears.”

All these words I heard, and I saw them emerging with a stream of ever-thinning blood from that wounded heart.

More was said, but my misted eyes and crying soul prevented further sight or hearing.

The Victors

BY THE EDGE of the lake, in the shade of cypress ana willow trees, a farmer’s son sat contemplating the calm and silent water.

He had been reared close to Nature, where everything bespeaks love—the branches embrace, the flowers tempt, the grass moves gracefully, the birds call to each other, and God preaches His gospel in many voices.

He was a youth, and yestereve he had observed a young maiden sitting with other damsels at this lake. He had fallen in love with her instantly and completely.

Now, on learning that she was the Emir’s daughter, he blamed his heart for having opened. But blaming never diverts the heart from its purpose, and loneliness deflects not the soul from the truth. A man between his heart and his soul is like a tender branch between the north and south winds.

As he looked about through his misted eyes, he saw the simple violets growing close by the noble jasmine; he saw the humming-bird upon the same tree with the robin. Yet the clamor of his heart insisted that the stately tree is hurt by the blades of grass encroaching at its roots.

He wept in his suffering, but like swift ghosts the hours slipped away, and with a sigh full of sweetness and affection he said, “What I see here is love ridiculing me, converting my hopes into pity, and my desires into disgrace.

The love which I worship elevates my heart into the Emir’s palace and lowers it into the farmer’s hut; it leads solidly into my spirit a young woman surrounded by admirers, served by slaves and protected by the strength of her ancestry.

I am following you, oh Love!

What do you seek of me? I have walked with you upon the flaming path, and when I opened my eyes, I saw naught but darkness. My lips quivered, but you let them speak only words of misery. Love, you have made my heart hungry for the sweetness of your presence, for I am weak and you are strong; why are you struggling with me?

I am innocent and you are just. Why do you oppress me?

You are my very being. Why do you injure me?

You are my strength. Why do you weaken me?

You are my guide. Why do you desert me in this wilderness?

I am at the feet of your mercy, and will follow no path but your own. It is your will and my obedience that make my soul happy, shaded in the open field by your wings.

The brooks hurry to their lover, the sea.

The flowers smile at their sweetheart, the sun.

The clouds descend to their suitor, the valley.

I am unheard by the brooks, unseen by the flowers, unknown to the clouds.

I am solitary in my love, far even from the one who accepts me not as a soldier in her father’s guard, nor as a servant in her palace; she knows not of my very existence.”

He became silent for a moment, as if wanting to learn the language of the murmur of the brook and the rustle of the flowers. Then he said, “And you, whose name I fear to call, secluded behind the shades of glory, and the walls of dignity, and the doors of iron—where can we meet but in Eternity? There, equality rules and self-being may be expressed.

You have taken possession of my heart which Love has blessed, and enslaved my soul which God has honored.

Yesterday I was carefree, living peacefully in these fields; yet today I am a prisoner of my absent heart.

When I saw you, Oh Beautiful, I understood the purpose for my coming into this world.

When I discovered that you are a princess, and I looked upon my poverty, I learned that God possesses a secret unrevealed to man; that a secret path leads the spirit to places where love may forget the customs of the earth. When I looked at your eyes, I knew that this path leads to a paradise whose door is the human heart.

And as I compared your station to my wretchedness, I saw them as a giant and a dwarf locked in struggle, and I realized that this earth is no more my homeland.

Yesterday I saw you surrounded by virgins, like a rose amidst the myrtles, and I believed that the vision of my dreams had descended from heaven to me. But with the knowledge of your father’s glory, I discovered that the hands, picking the rose, would suffer bleeding from hidden thorns, seen too late, and what my dreams had gathered would be lost on awakening.”

The youth stood up and walked slowly and sadly toward a spring. He flung his face into his hands, and begged in despair, “Oh Death, come and take me, for the earth, whose thorns choke its roses, is not just; come and deliver me from this kingdom of differences in a world that dethrones love of its heavenly glory and replaces it with shallow dignity. Help me, oh Death, for Eternity is the only place. There I shall wait for my beloved.”

At eventide he still wandered in body and in mind, and the sun had already withdrawn its rays from the fields. He sat in the small arbor in which the Emir’s daughter had walked. He dropped his head to his chest as in to keep his heart from bursting.

At that moment a beautiful young woman appeared from behind the willow trees, her robes trailing over the green grass She stood by him and placed her soft hand upon his head As if in insanity he stared at her, not believing the picture o his eyes.