FAITH is THE bird that feels the light
and sings when the dawn is still dark.

IT HAS FALLEN upon me, the service of thy singer.
In my songs I have voiced thy spring flowers, and given rhythm to thy rustling leaves.
I have sung into the hush of thy night and peace of thy morning.
The thrill of the first summer rains has passed into my tunes, and the waving of the autumn harvest.
Let not my song cease at last, my Master, when thou breakest my heart to come into my house, but let it burst into thy welcome.

THERE IS A looker-on who sits behind my eyes. It seems he has seen things in ages and worlds beyond memory's shore, and those forgotten sights glisten on the grass, and shiver on the leaves. He has seen under new veils the face of the one beloved, in twilight hours of many a nameless star.
Therefore his sky seems to ache with the pain of countless meetings and partings, and a longing pervades this spring breeze,-the longing that is full of the whisper of ages without beginning.