DAWN THE many-coloured flower fades,
and then the simple light-fruit,
the sun appears.

WHEN WE rejoice in our fulness, then we can part with our fruit? with joy.

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.'