THE RAIN HAS held back for days and days, my God, in my arid heart. The horizon is fiercely naked-not the thinnest cover of a soft cloud, not the vaguest hint of a distant cool shower. Send thy angry storm, dark with death, if it is thy wish, and with lashes of lightning startle the sky from end to end. But call back, my lord, call back this pervading silent heat, still and keen and cruel, burning the heart with dire despair. Let the cloud of grace bend low from above like the tearful look of the mother on the day of the father's wrath.
I HAVE MET THEE where the night touches the edge of the day; where the light startles the darkness into dawn, and the waves carry the kiss of the one shore to the other. From the heart of the fathomless blue comes one golden call, and across the dusk of tears I try to gaze at thy face and know not for certain if thou art seen.
