IT IS THE pang of separation that spreads throughout the world and gives birth to shapes innumerable in the infinite sky.
It is this sorrow of separation that gazes in silence all night from star to star and becomes lyric among rustling leaves in rainy darkness of July.
It is this overspreading pain that deepens into loves and desires, into sufferings and joys in human homes; and this it is that ever melts and flows in songs through my poet's heart.

ALL THE delights that I have left
in life's fruits and flowers
let me offer to thee at the end of the feast,
in a perfect union of love.

WHEN DEATH comes and whispers to me
'Thy days are ended,'
let me say to him, I have lived in love
and not in mere time.'
He will ask 'Will thy songs remain?'
I shall say I know not, but this I know
that often when I sang I found my eternity.'