Page:Stray Birds.djvu/16

STRAY BIRDS 13 , my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it makes love to you.

14 mystery of creation is like the darkness of night—it is great. Delusions of knowledge are like the fog of the morning.

15 not seat your love upon a precipice because it is high.

16 at my window this morning where the world like a passer-by stops For a moment, nods to me and goes. [10]