IT WAS ONLY the budding of leaves in the summer, the summer that came into the garden by the sea. It was only a stir and rustle in the south wind, a few lazy snatches of songs, and then the day was done. But let there be flowering of love in the summer to come in the garden by the sea. Let my joy take its birth and clap its hands and dance with the surging songs, and make the morning open its eyes wide in sweet amazement.
'WHAT IS THERE but the sky, O Sun, that can hold thine image?' I dream of thee, but to serve thee I can never hope,' the dewdrop wept and said, 'I am too small to take thee unto me, great lord, and my life is all tears.' 'I illumine the limitless sky, yet I can yield myself up to a tiny drop of dew,' thus the Sun said; 'I shall become but a sparkle of light and fill you, and your little life will be a laughing orb.'