Traverse, if thou wilt, in thy pride of soul, the universe; thy heart again is the universe to mine.

I thought but now that I was prepared to die; I see thee, touch thee, and again I know how beautiful a thing is life! See through the grate the stars are fading from the sky; the morrow will soon be here,--The MORROW which will open the prison doors! Thou sayest thou canst save me,--I will not doubt it now.

Oh, let us dwell no more in cities! I never doubted thee in our lovely isle; no dreams haunted me there, except dreams of joy and beauty; and thine eyes made yet more beautiful and joyous the world in waking.

To-morrow!--why do you not smile?
To-morrow, love! is not TO-MORROW a blessed word! Cruel! you would punish me still, that you will not share my joy.

Aha! see our little one, how it laughs to my eyes! I will talk to THAT.