as my last offering to thee.


In desperate hope I go and search for her in all the corners of
my room; I find her not.

My house is small and what once has gone from it can never be
regained.

But infinite is thy mansion, my lord, and seeking her I have to
come to thy door.

I stand under the golden canopy of thine evening sky and I lift
my eager eyes to thy face.

I have come to the brink of eternity from which nothing can
vanish--no hope, no happiness, no vision of a face seen through
tears.

Oh, dip my emptied life into that ocean, plunge it into the
deepest fullness. Let me for once feel that lost sweet touch in
the allness of the universe.


Deity of the ruined temple! The broken strings of _Vina_
sing no more your praise. The bells in the evening proclaim not
your time of worship. The air is still and silent about you.

In your desolate dwelling comes the vagrant spring breeze. It
brings the tidings of flowers--the flowers that for your worship