IS SUMMER'S festival only for fresh blossoms and not also for withered leaves and faded flowers? Is the song of the sea in tune only with the rising waves? Does it not also sing with the waves that fall? Jewels are woven into the carpet where stands my king, but there are patient clods waiting to be touched by his feet. Few are the wise and the great who sit by my Master, but he has taken the foolish in his arms and made me his servant for ever.
LET MY SONG be simple as the waking in the morning, as the dripping of dew from the leaves, Simple as the colours in clouds and showers of rain in the midnight. But my lute strings are newly strung and they dart their notes like spears sharp in their newness. Thus they miss the spirit of the wind and hurt the light of the sky; and these strains of my songs fight hard to push back thy own music.
