Flower of the Dusk

"I suppose you are. When it ain't readin', it's eatin'.

You're readin' and readin' and readin' and you never know what you're readin' about.

The lamp went out and little by little the room faded into twilight, then into night.

heart full of nameless yearning

When you open the door of your heart and let all the joy rush out, laughing—then you are making a song."

"But—is there always joy?"

"Yes, though sometimes it is sadly covered up with other things. We must find it and divide it, for only in that way it grows. Good-night, my dear."

And—past the sunset——"

"Past the sunset," repeated the old man, dreamily, "soul and body shall be as one. We must wait—for life is made up of waiting—and make what songs we can."

"So we can, Daddy," said Barbara, very gently. "Our souls are neither blind nor lame. Here, I am eyes for you and you are feet for me, so we belong together.

"And so," he said, with difficulty, "she leans from the sunset toward him, but he can never see her, because he is blind. Oh, Barbara," he cried, passionately, "last night I dreamed that you could walk and I could see!"

"This one was about a sunset," he sighed. "It was such a sunset as was never on sea or land, because two who loved each other saw it together. God and all His angels had hung a marvellous tapestry from the high walls of Heaven, and it reached almost to the mountain-tops, where some of the little clouds sleep.

"The man said, 'Shall we always look for the sunsets together?'

"The woman smiled and answered, 'Yes, always.'

"'And,' the man continued, 'when one of us goes on the last long journey?'

"'Then,' answered the woman, 'the other will not be watching alone. For, I think, there in the West is the Golden City with the jasper

Song of the Sunset