No More Learning

When it is day with thee, my friend, it is night with me; yet even
then I speak of the noontide that dances upon the hills and of
the purple shadow that steals its way across the valley; for thou
canst not hear the songs of my darkness nor see my wings beating
against the stars--and I fain would not have thee hear or see. I
would be with night alone.

When thou ascendest to thy Heaven I descend to my Hell--even then
thou callest to me across the unbridgeable gulf, "My companion, my
comrade," and I call back to thee, "My comrade, my companion"--for
I would not have thee see my Hell. The flame would burn thy eyesight
and the smoke would crowd thy nostrils. And I love my Hell too
well to have thee visit it. I would be in Hell alone.

Thou lovest Truth and Beauty and Righteousness; and I for thy sake
say it is well and seemly to love these things. But in my heart
I laught at thy love. Yet I would not have thee see my laughter.
I would laugh alone.

My friend, thou art good and cautious and wise; nay, thou art
perfect--and I, too, speak with thee wisely and cautiously. And
yet I am mad. But I mask my madness. I would be mad alone.

My friend, thou art not my friend, but how shall I make thee
understand?
My path is not thy path, yet together we walk, hand
in hand.





The Scarecrow




Once I said to a scarecrow, "You must be tired of standing in this
lonely field. "

And he said, "The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I
never tire of it. "

Said I, after a minute of thought, "It is true; for I too have
known that joy. "

Said he, "Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it. "

Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled
me.

A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.

And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest
under his hat.





The Sleep-Walkers




In the town where I was born lived a woman and her daughter, who
walked in their sleep.

One night, while silence enfolded the world, the woman and her
daughter, walking, yet asleep, met in their mist-veiled garden.

And the mother spoke, and she said: "At last, at last, my enemy!
You by whom my youth was destroyed--who have built up your life
upon the ruins of mine! Would I could kill you! "

And the daughter spoke, and she said: "O hateful woman, selfish
and old! Who stand between my freer self and me! Who would have
my life an echo of your own faded life!