Sometimes, The Most Profound Of Awakenings Come

Let Me Into The Darkness Again.

When It Came Night, The White Waves Paced To And Fro In The Moonlight, And The Wind Brought The Sound Of The Great Sea's Voice To The Men On Shore, And They Felt That They Could Then Be Interpreters.

Tell Her This And More,— That The King Of The Seas Weeps Too, Old, Helpless Man. The Bustling Fates Heap His Hands With Corpses Until He Stands Like A Child With Surplus Of Toys.

In The Desert I Saw A Creature, Naked, Bestial, Who, Squatting Upon The Ground, Held His Heart In His Hands, And Ate Of It. I Said, ‘is It Good, Friend?’ ‘it Is Bitter — Bitter,’ He Answered, ‘but I Like It Because It Is Bitter, And Because It Is My Heart.

It Perhaps Might Be Said--if Any One Dared--that The Most Worthless Literature Of The World Has Been That Which Has Been Written By The Men Of One Nation Concerning The Men Of Another.