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POET: I, too, am part of eternity. I and the blade of grass are a part of Nature. The beauty of the orchards is mine ; The orchards drooping heavy, like lovely ladies pregnant,

expectant ; Plum-trees, pear-trees, cherry-trees, apple-trees, White brides, serene in the prophecy of fruit ; Giant oak-trees, monarchs of the years. Which have seized the Earth with their compelling roots As a lover seizes his beloved,

And from their love have wrought a canopy of leaves ; The gray oaks, each a populous city With ants, squirrels, owls, hawks, woodpeckers. Finches and all the birds for citizens ; Balsamed and odorous pines which catch the breezes. Holding them for a moment, as satyrs hold nymphs ; Kissing them, releasing them, stamped with sweet odor ; Bright rivers and their lesser veins, the irrigation-ditches. Which stretch silver fingers into the Desert, Beckoning the tall poplars to stand beside them as

sentinels. Patiently waiting for the King to come.

TRUTH: The wonderful Mother is everlasting. Her soul is Beauty. She is beautiful in every part, The lesser as well as the greater.

POET: The pebbles of the brook are jewels. The mountains are jewels, emerald, amethyst, sapphire. The wilderness of flowers are jewels from the Sun God's

throat ; The stars, which shall remain when the Earth has ceased. Gemming the crown of Night ; The flowers which bloom for a moment that there may be

fruit.

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