e blooms, and
bends her beauty down to him who passeth by.

He plucketh it, yea, he plucketh the red cup that is full of honey,
and beareth it away; away across the desert, away till the flower be
withered, away till the desert be done.

There is only one perfect flower in the wilderness of Life.

That flower is Love!

There is only one fixed star in the midsts of our wandering.

That star is Love!

There is only one hope in our despairing night.

That hope is Love!

All else is false. All else is shadow moving upon water. All else is
wind and vanity.

Who shall say what is the weight or the measure of Love?

It is born of the flesh, it dwelleth in the spirit. From each doth it
draw its comfort.

For beauty it is as a star.

Many are its shapes, but all are beautiful, and none know where the star
rose, or the horizon where it shall set.

[*] Among the ancient Arabians the power of poetic
declamation, either in verse or prose, was held in the
highest honour and esteem, and he who excelled in it was
known as "Khateb," or Orator. Every year a general assembly
was held at which the rival poets repeated their
compositions, when those poems which were judged to be the
best were, so soon as the knowledge and the art of writing
became general, inscribed on silk in letters of gold, and
publicly exhibited, being known as "Al Modhahabat," or
golden verses. In the poem given above by Mr. Holly, Ayesha
evidently followed the traditional poetic manner of her
people, which was to embody their thoughts in a series of
somewhat disconnected sentences, each remarkable for its
beauty and the grace of its expression. --Editor.

Then, turning to Leo, and laying her hand upon his shoulder, she went
on in a fuller and more triumphant tone, speaking in balanced sentences
that gradually grew and swelled from idealised prose into pure and
majestic verse:--

Long have I loved thee, oh, my love; yet has my love not lessened.

Long have I waited for thee, and behold my reward is at hand--is here!

Far away I saw thee once, and thou wast taken from me.

Then in a grave sowed I the seed of patience, and shone upon it with the
sun of hope, and watered it with tears of repentance, and breathed on
it with the breath of my knowledge. And now, lo! it hath sprung up, and
borne fruit. Lo! out of the grave hath it sprung. Yea, from among the
dry bones and ashes of t