Forgiveness! You have angered my heart till it is hard and burning like a thunderbolt! You can go back to your work and your glory, but what is left for me? Memory is a bed of thorns, and secret shame will gnaw at the roots of my life. You came like a wayfarer, sat through the sunny hours in the shade of my garden, and to while time away you plucked all its flowers and wove them into a chain. And now, parting, you snap the thread and let the flowers drop on the dust! Accursed be that great knowledge you have earned!--a burden that, though others share equally with you, will never be lightened. For lack of love may it ever remain as foreign to your life as the cold stars are to the un-espoused darkness of virgin Night! 21 I "Why these preparations without end?"--I said to Mind--"Is some one to come?" Mind replied, "I am enormously busy gathering things and building towers. I have no time to answer such questions." Meekly I went back to my work. When things were grown to a pile, when seven wings of his palace were complete, I said to Mind, "Is it not enough?" Mind began to say, "Not enough to contain--" and then stopped. "Contain what?" I asked. Mind affected not to hear. I suspected that Mind did not know, and with ceaseless work smothered the question. His one refrain was, "I must have more." "Why must you?" "Because it is great." "What is great?" Mind remained silent. I pressed for an answer. In contempt and anger, Mind said, "Why ask about things that are not? Take notice of those that are hugely before you,--the struggle and the fight, the army and armaments, the bricks and mortar, and labourers without number." I thought "Possibly Mind is wise." II Days passed. More wings were added to his palace--more lands to his domain. The season of rains came to an end. The dark clouds became white and thin, and in the rain-washed sky the sunny hours hovered like butterflies over an unseen flower. I was bewildered and asked everybody I met, "What is that music in the breeze?" A tramp walked the road whose dress was wild as his manner; he said, "Hark to the music of the Coming!" I cannot tell why I was convinced, but the words broke from me, "We have not much longer to wait." "It is close at hand," said the mad man. I went to the office and boldly said to Mind, "Stop all work!" Mind asked, "Have you any news?" "Yes," I answered, "News of the Coming." But I could not explain. Mind shook his head and said, "There are neither banners nor pageantry!" III The night waned, the stars paled in the sky. Suddenly the touchstone of the morning light tinged everything with gold. A cry spread from mouth to mouth-- "Here is the herald!" I bowed my head and asked, "Is he coming?" The answer seemed to burst from all sides, "Yes." Mind grew troubled and said, "The dome of my building is not yet finished, nothing is in order." A voice came from the sky, "Pull down your building!" "But why?" asked Mind.