will
not go within my chamber, where 'tis gloom and darkness. I watch the
stars, a silver, mocking throng, that twinkle at me coldly, and then I
see the moon mount slowly her pathway of the skies. The noises of
the night come to me softly, as if they knew my sorrow, and the
croaking frogs and the crickets that find lodging by the lotus pool
seem to feel with me my loneliness, so plaintive is their cry.

I feel the dawn will never come, as if 'twere dead or slumbered; but
when at last he comes, I watch him touch the hillside, trees, and
temples with soft grey fingers, and bring to me a beauty one does not
see by day. The night winds pass with sighs among the pine-trees,
and in passing give a loving touch to bells upon pagodas that bring
their music faint to me. The dawn is not the golden door of happiness.
It only means another day has come and I must smile and talk and
live as if my heart were here.

Oh, man of mine, if but thy dream touch would come and bid me
slumber, I would obey.

Thy Wife.

36
They have put a baby in my arms, a child found on the tow-path, a
beggar child. I felt I could not place another head where our dear boy
had lain, and I sat stiff and still, and tried to push away the little body
pressing close against me; but at touch of baby mouth and fingers,
springs that were dead seemed stirring in my heart again. At last I
could not bear it, and I leaned my face against her head and crooned
His lullaby:

"The Gods on the rooftree guard pigeons from harm
And my little pigeon is safe in my arms."

I cannot tell thee more. My heart is breaking.

37
I have given to this stranger-child, this child left to die upon the
tow-path, the clothes that were our son's. She was cold, and thy
Mother came to me so gently and said, "Kwei-li, hast thou no clothing
for the child that was found by thy servants?" I saw her meaning, and I
said, "Would'st thou have me put the clothing over which I have wept,
and that is now carefully laid away in the camphor-wood box, upon
this child?" She said-- and thou would'st not know thy Mother's voice,
her bitter words are only as the rough shell of the lichee nut that
covers the sweet meat hidden within-- she said, "Why not, dear one?
This one needs them, and the hours thou passest with them are only
filled with saddened memories." I said to her, "This is a girl, a beggar
child. I will not give to her the clothing of my son. Each time I looked
upon her it would be a kni