h daring footsteps. We brake the bread of the cosmic sacrament in
sight of the Inaccessible.

In the metallic mirrors of Arctic lakes we watched the wind-whipped
clouds. Mute we knelt in the ice-temples of Silence, and where the
glaciers shatter the rainbows we renewed our promises.

Wet sat at the universal banquet, and drank deep of Beauty. Cheek
pressed to cheek, arms interlaced, we sighed in the consecrated throes
of its reproduction, and in the imagery of Art we lisped Creation's
lessons.

From height to height and depth to depth. Lagging in low canoes along
the black waters of silent swamps--life-left--seeing the far-off blue of
sky and hope between the warning points of cypress spires. Across the
stretch of yellow sands, seeking her riddle of the Sphinx, and asking
from the Runic records of one dead faith, and the sand-buried temples of
another, the aim of the True.

Or clouds or rocks or winds or waves, the mutable or the unchangeable
was in turn the theme of our reproductive praise. There were
transfigurations on the mountain tops, where the spirit of the universe
wore shining garbs and hailed us, their Interpreters. From every wave
stretched Undine arms to greet us, and tongues of flame taught us the
glories of the element.

Sometimes in giddy pauses shone sad eyes--yet not reproachful on me; but
if I sighed in answer to their shining, Aspiro dazzled in betwixt me and
my memory, and bade me 'cease not striving,' while her white finger
pointed farther onward. For our love-life was a striving, and life's
best porcelain was like common clay for fashioning vessels for its use.

I gave up all to her, time, talent, ingenuity. Studying for her caprices
and struggling for her pleasure. How fair she seemed, how worthy any
effort! If only I might hope that I, at last, should wholly win her
approbation and make our union indissoluble. Her radiant smiles, and
lofty, loving words, were hard to win, but then, when won--! Who ever
looked and spoke and smiled as did Aspiro?

There was neither rest nor dalliance on our way. Unrest lit meteors in
the heaven of my mistress's eyes, and I lost, at length, the delusion
that I should ever satisfy all her imperious exactions. Then I hoped to
make but some one thought or deed quite worthy of her favor, even to the
sacrifice of my life.

I strove my utmost in the Art we loved. The strife consumed the dross of
daily, petty hopes and fears, which make the happiness of common liv