It sang to thee then from the boughs a long, loud, joyous jubilee.

And musing, thou didst feel that it was not the vine-leaves or the moonlight that made the bird give melody to night, and that the secret of its music was the presence of a thing beloved.' "How didst thou know my thoughts in that childlike time better than I knew myself! How is the humble life of my past years, with its mean events, so mysteriously familiar to thee, bright stranger! I wonder,--but I do not again dare to fear thee! ....
"Once the thought of him oppressed and weighed me down.

As an infant that longs for the moon, my being was one vague desire for something never to be attained.

Now I feel rather as if to think of thee sufficed to remove every fetter from my spirit.

I float in the still seas of light, and nothing seems too high for my wings, too glorious for my eyes.