ning　of　creation　ran　the　simple　path　by　which　their　hearts　visited　each　other。

Those　marks　of　their　constant　tread　have　not　been　effaced　though　their　kinship　has　been　long　forgotten。

Yet　suddenly　in　some　wordless　music　the　dim　memory　wakes　up　and　the　beast　gazes　into　the　man’s　face　with　a　tender　trust；　and　the　man　looks　down　into　its　eyes　with　amused　affection。

It　seems　that　the　two　friends　meet　masked　and　vaguely　know　each　other　through　the　disguise。

The　Gardener 80

With　a　glance　of　your　eyes　you　could　plunder　all　the　wealth　of　songs　struck　from　poets’ harps；　fair　woman！

But　for　their　praises　you　have　no　ear；　therefore　I　e　to　praise　you。

You　could　humble　at　your　feet　the　proudest　heads　in　the　world。

But　it　is　your　loved　ones；　unknown　to　fame；　whom　you　choose　to　worship；　therefore　I　worship　you。

The　perfection　of　your　arms　would　add　glory　to　kingly　splendour　with　their　touch。

But　you　use　them　to　sweep　away　the　dust；　and　to　make　clean　your　humble　home；　therefore　I　am　filled　with　awe。

The　Gardener 81

Why　do　you　whisper　so　faintly　in　my　ears；　O　Death；　my　Death？

When　the　flowers　droop　in　the　evening　and　cattle　e　back　to　their　stalls；　you　stealthily　e　to　my　side　and　speak　words　that　I　do　not　understand。

Is　this　how　you　must　woo　and　win　me　with　the　opiate　of　drowsy　murmur　and　cold　kisses；　O　Death；　my　Death？

Will　there　be　no　proud　ceremony　for　our　wedding？

Will　you　not　tie　up　with　a　wreath　your　tawny　coiled　locks？

Is　there　none　to　carry　your　banner　before　you；　and　will　not　the　night　be　on　fire　with　your　red　torch…lights；　O　Death；　my　Death？

e　with　your　conch…shells　sounding；　e　in　the　sleepless　night。

Dress　me　with　a　crimson　mantle；　grasp　my　ha