BY SRIMATI NILIMA DEVI

It was the hushed hour of midnight,

All living creatures had gone to sleep and restful repose,

Save one traveller on a mountain road.

The faint moon lightened his fair brow,

Soft breeze rippled over his wavy hair;

Of a sudden he heard a sweet voice,

And a wondrous fragrance wafted o’er to him;

He looked up and beheld a glory of light

Which nearer and nearer came

And revealed itself in the form of a woman.

Never in dream nor in life

Had he beheld a woman so beautifully divine:

"Who art thou", quoth he,

"What want'st thou of me?"–

"Knowest me not?" –said she,

"And that my path spreads across and over thy heart?"

Her voice was like a song

That never was nor could ever be.

Thus the traveller’s soul was filled with a peace

That never was nor could ever be.

Verily ’twas the Spirit of the Earth

Who came and spake to him that loved Earth so:

The brimming life that was in all her living beings

She it is that made all life grow–

Fuller and richer at every instant of eternity.

Suddenly the traveller felt an unaccountable thirst,

And she, divining his desire,

Beckoned him to a spot

Where, from the heart of a bare rock,

Gushed forth a spring of bubbling crystal clear water:

He drank and instantly all the thirst of his life

Was quenched by the water that was sweeter than life itself:

"Wilt thou not ever again come to me?

"To appease my thirst", –then he gently asked:

"But", she said, "I am never away or far from thee,

"Thou dost see me in the dust of thy path,

"Hear my voice in the song of birds,

"Behold my face in the blossoming of flowers,

"In the dance of the sunlight on tree-tops,

"In all manifestations of growing life."

She then put her two lovely, gentle hands on his brow:

Her touch was like a benediction.

An exquisite rapture filled his soul:

He closed his eyes and when opened them again,

She was gone.

Only the fragrance of her touch

Lingered in the hushed silence of the dying night,

And a peace deep as the unfathomable depths of the human heart

Flowed over the path of the waning moon:

The stars quivered and lighted the path

Of the lonely traveller

Towards the journey’s end.