BLESSED AM I that I am born to this land and that I had the luck to love her. What care I if queenly treasure is not in her store but precious enough is for me the living wealth of her love. The best gift of fragrance to my heart is from her own flowers and I know not where else shines the moon that can flood my being with such loveliness. The first light revealed to my eyes was from her own sky and let the same light kiss them before they are closed for ever.
I AM GLAD you will not wait for me with that lingering pity in your look. It is only the spell of the night and my farewell words, startled at their own tune of despair, which bring these tears to my eyes. But day will dawn, my eyes will dry and my heart; and there will be no time for weeping. Who says it is hard to forget? The mercy of death works at life's core, bringing it respite from its own foolish persistence. The stormy sea is lulled at last in its rocking-cradle; the forest fire falls to sleep on its bed of ashes. You and I shall part, and the cleavage will be hidden under living grass and flowers that laugh in the sun.
