And I, a certain god, Waiting for mad Frederick To enter this place of pools and stars, Saw him at last. With a sigh he looked about upon his fellows Sitting or standing by their pools. And some of the pools were covered with scum, And some were glazed as of filth, And some were grown with weeds, And some were congealed as of the north wind, And a few were yet pure, And held the star's image. And by these some sat and were glad, Others had lost the vision. The star was there, but its meaning vanished. And mad Frederick, going here and there, With no purpose, Only curious and interested As I was, a certain god, Came by a certain pool And saw a star. He shivered, He clasped his hands, He sank to his knees, He touched his lips to the water. Then voices from the limbs of the trees muttered: "There he is again." "He must be driven away." "The pool is not his." "He does not belong here." So as when bats fly in a cave They swooped from their hidings in the trees And dashed themselves in the pool. Then I saw what these flying things were-- But no matter. They were illusions, evil and envious And dull, But with power to destroy. And mad Frederick turned away from the pool And covered his eyes with his arms. Then a certain god, Of less power than mine, Came and sat beside me and said: "Why do you allow this to be? They are all seeking, Why do you not let them find their heart's delight? Why do you allow this to be?" But I did not answer. The lesser god did not know That I have no power, That only the God has the power. And that this must be In spite of all lesser gods. And I saw mad Frederick Arise and ascend to the top of a high hill, And I saw him find the star Whose image he had seen in the pool. Then he knelt and prayed: "Give me to understand, O Star, Your inner self, your eternal spirit, That I may have you and not images of you, So that I may know what has driven me through the world, And may cure my soul. For I know you are Eternal Love, And I can never escape you. And if I cannot escape you, Then I must serve you. And if I must serve you, It must be to good and not ill-- You have brought me from the forest of pools And the images of stars, Here to the hill's top. Where now do I go? And what shall I do?" THE END Printed in the United States of America. The following pages contain advertisements of books by the same author or on kindred subjects _EDGAR LEE MASTERS' REMARKABLE BOOK_ Spoon River Anthology _Mr. Masters' book is considered by many to be the most striking and important contribution to American letters in recent years_:-- "An American 'Comedie Humaine' brings more characters into its pages than any American novel.... Takes its place among the masterpieces which are not of a time or a locality."--_Boston Transcript._