WHEN MY play was with thee I never questioned who thou wert. I knew nor shyness nor fear, my life was boisterous. In the early morning thou wouldst call me from my sleep like my own comrade and lead me running from glade to glade. On those days I never cared to know the meaning of songs thou sangest to me. Only my voice took up the tunes, and my heart danced in their cadence. Now, when the playtime is over, what is this sudden sight that is come upon me? The world with eyes bent upon thy feet stands in awe with all its silent stars.
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.