God
Crept nearer Saying:
“Come with me! Take
No chances
With the sleepers —
Come with me!”
And down
The highway
Swept the summons,
“Come with me!”
Gray garments
Changed
To gold,
And only
Hatred
And Fear
Were left uncalled
From their sleep.
Yearning
The lamps on the street throw fitful shadows upon the pavements, which glisten with many raindrops.
Walking slowly, with bent shoulders and bowed head, is a man with slightly graying hair. Round and round the square he walks, glancing neither to the right nor left, until finally, wearying, he crosses the street and enters a house where the curtains are closely drawn.
Bits of smilax, rose leaves and trodden violets can be seen about the steps, and as he opens the door, the air is charged with escaping perfume.
With a hasty glance at the heavy draperies which conceal the opening to the room, he mounts hurriedly the stairs, and with trembling hands turns the knob of a door.
Gently he pushes it wide, and the soft gleam of the lamp plays upon the silken draperies of a woman’s room.
No sound breaks the stillness as the man closes the door and with a heartbroken cry throws himself upon his knees by the bedside.
His frame shakes from head to foot as his arms are thrown across the bed which had so recently held all his world.
At last, worn out by the battle, his body relaxes, and released from its leash, the spirit meets the occupant of the room Clasped in his arms, with gentle, loving fingers she strokes his face and says:
“I am still here with you — always, as you are now with me.”
His clasp tightens as he sobs:
“I thought that you were dead — that you had left me.”
“Loving you, how could I leave you?” she answered. “And there is no such thing as death] One only changes!
I am just as you are now; and as we have been each night we have gone out together. The only change is that during a few hours you go back to the world of business, while I wait for you in the land of art Dry your eyes, beloved, for when you weep, you keep me from creating the beautiful things we have longed for. All the material is here at my hand, but I must be free to work.
The clocks of the city are striking the hour for you to begin your work and for me also. Go now! And tonight we will tell each other of what we have accomplished.”
The striking of the hour breaks the stillness of the room, and the man by the bedside stirs and then gazes with unseeing eyes at the empty bed and the room with its softly glowing lamp.
A well-remembered perfume floats upon the air and his hair is brushed as by a fairy wind.
With arms outstretched, he rises to his feet.
“Tell me it is true! That, if it was a dream, that dreams are the truth of life! Give me some sign that I may know, my darling. I must know! I must! Give me some little sign!”
As he gazes at the curtain which conceals the doorway, there is a faint rustle of silken drapery, and a shadow seems upon it for just a moment.
The lamp burns low, the man sits motionless.
“Was it true? Was it a sign, or was it only a movement by the wind?”
II.
Seated on the sidewalk, crying bitterly, is a small boy, holding in his arms a dog.
The grief of the child attracts a passerby, who questions:
“What is the trouble, little man?”
Between sobs, the child explains that he missed his pet and found it in the road.
“He didn’t come when I called. He always minds. And now he doesn’t tell me anything! Why doesn’t he?”
“Let me see, little man,” says the stranger, and stoops to take the dog, which the boy clasps more tightly.
Putting his hand on the child’s head: “Poor little man! I am sorry, but your little friend will never do any of those things again, for he is dead.”
With a cry of joy the child jumps up, and says:
“Is that it? Well, that’s all right; for now he will always stay where I am.
With a quick gesture the man put out his hand and caught the child.
“What do you mean by that? Why are you happy, now, when I tell you he is dead?”
Gazing upward at the man’s face, the child answers:
“Why! Mother told me so. She says there is no death — there only is another life — and when we love any one very much they never leave us.
She says that when its daylight we cannot see them because they are so beautiful, but that at night we can, when we go to sleep — and that’s our real life — when we think we are only sleeping.”
The man clutched at the child almost wildly.
“You believe that, little man?”
“Of course! It’s true! Now, I must take Fido to mother, for she knows what to do to make him beautiful — and then tonight we’ll play hide-and-seek, as we were going to’ this morning.”
With a happy and joyous ‘‘goodbye” ringing in his ears, the man gazed at the little figure flying down the street.
“I wonder! Yes! It was a sign, for is it not said— ‘A little child shall lead them!’”
Animals
