THE SERVICE of the fruit is precious, the service of the flower is sweet, but let my service be the service of the leaves in its shade of humble devotion.
I KNOW THAT this life, missing its ripeness in love, is not altogether lost. I know that the flowers that fade in the dawn, the streams that strayed in the desert, are not altogether lost. I know that whatever lags behind in this life laden with slowness is not altogether lost. I know that my dreams that are still unfulfilled, and my melodies still unstruck, are clinging to some lute-strings of thine, and they are not altogether lost.