THOU HAST done well, my lover, thou hast done well to send me thy fin of pain. For my incense never yields its perfume till it burns, and my lamp is blind till it is lighted. When my mind is numb its torpor must be stricken by thy love' lightning; and the very darkness that blots my world burns like a torch when set afire by thy thunder.
I DID NOT know that I had thy touch before it was dawn. The news has slowly reached me through my sleep, and I open my eyes with its surprise of tears. The sky seems full of whispers for me and my limbs are bathed with songs. My heart bends in worship like a dewladen flower, and I feel the flood of my life rushing to the endless.
