EARLY WINTER spreads her filmy veil over midnight stars, and the call comes from the deep, 'Man, bring out your lamp.' The forests are bare of flowers, the birds have ceased to sing the river-side grass has shed its blossoms. Come, Dipali, waken hidden flames out of the desolate dark, and offer symphony of praise to eternal light. The stars are dimmed the night is disconsolate, and the call comes from the deep, 'Man, bring out your lamp.'
TIME is endless in thy hands, my lord. There is none to count thy minutes. Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers. Thou knowest how to wait. Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower. We have no time to lose, and having no time we must scramble for our chances. We are too poor to be late. And thus it is that time goes by while I give it to every querulous man who claims it, and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last. At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut; but I find that yet there is time.
