XLVI
The time is past when I could repay her for all that I received.
Her night has found its morning and thou hast taken her to thy
arms: and to thee I bring my gratitude and my gifts that were for
her.
For all hurts and offences to her I come to thee for forgiveness.
I offer to thy service those flowers of my love that remained in
bud when she waited for them to open.
XLVII
I found a few old letters of mine carefully hidden in her box--a
few small toys for her memory to play with.
With a timorous heart she tried to steal these trifles from
time's turbulent stream, and said, "These are mine only!"
Ah, there is no one now to claim them, who can pay their price
with loving care, yet here they are still.
Surely there is love in this world to save her from utter loss,
even like this love of hers that saved these letters with such
fond care.
XLVIII
Bring beauty and order into my forlorn life, woman, as you
brought them into my house when you lived.
Sweep away the dusty fragments of the hours, fill the empty jars,
and mend all that has been neglected.
Then open the inner door of the shrine, light the candle, and let
us meet there in silence before our God.
XLIX
The pain was great when the strings were being tuned, my Master!
Begin your music, and let me forget the pain; let me feel in
beauty what you had in your mind through those pitiless days.
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