PITILESS DARTS of fire strike a thirst pang in the heart of the sky. Nights are sleepless, days long and languorous, scorched with heat. I hear the tired doves crooning with plaintive notes from behind the withered boughs, and I watch the sky for the triumphant storm to flood with its caress the waiting earth. Come thirst-quenching water! Well out in liquid rapture, rending the bosom of the hard! From the mysterious dark leap out in overflowing streams, Come, you who are pure! The sun waits to welcome you, for you are his playmate. His lyric of light wakens golden songs in your heart. Come, you who are radiant! What magic spell has the desert demon cast on you, and made you captive with his fetter of rocks? Break your prison walls; come running out with your current, free and dancing. Come, you who are strong!
I WISH I could take a quiet corner in the heart of my baby's very own world. I know it has stars that talk to him, and a sky that stoops down to his face to amuse him with its silly clouds and rainbows. Those who make believe to be dumb, and look as if they never could move, come creeping to his window with their stories and with trays crowded with bright toys. I wish I could travel by the road that crosses baby's mind, and out beyond all bounds; Where messengers run errands for no cause between the kingdoms of kings of no history; Where Reason makes kites of her laws and flies them, and Truth sets Fact free from its fetters.
