in its golden fruit and blossoms how did we talk together then fairest friend thou tell me all and yet thou that even then had i asked any part of thy it would have been to bear the sweet fruit rather than the sweeter blossoms my wish had been expressed by another e of lake o that i were an tree that busy plant then should i ever laden be and never want some fruit for him that me thou seem to me the happiest of all spirits in wealth of nature in fulness of utterance how is it that i find thee now in another habitation how is it man that thou art now content that thy life bears no golden fruit it is i replied that i have at last through been into the secret of peace without unable to find myself in other forms of nature i was driven back upon the centre of my being and there found all being for the wise the obedient child from one point can draw lines and in one read all the possible of successive life o replied the flower and ever for that reason am i trying to my being how happy i was in the spirit s when first it was wed i told thee in that earlier day but after a while i grew weary of that fulness of speech i felt a shame at telling all i knew and all sympathies i was never i was never alone i had a voice for every season for day and night on me the merchant counted the bride looked to me for her the nobleman for the chief ornament of his hall and the poor man for his wealth all sang my praises all my beauty all blessed my and for a while my heart swelled with pride and pleasure but as years passed my mood changed the lonely moon me as she hid from the wishes of man nor would return till her due change was passed the inaccessible sun looked on me with the same ray as on all others my endless profusion could not bribe him to one smile sacred to me alone the mysterious wind passed me by to tell its secret to the solemn pine and the sang to the rose rather than me though she was often silent and buried herself yearly in the dark earth i had no mine or thine i belonged to all i could never rest i was never at one painfully i felt this want and from every blossom sighed entreaties for some being to j the of lake come and satisfy it with every bud i implored an answer but each bud only produced � an orange at last this feeling grew more painful and thrilled my very root the earth trembled at the touch with a pulse so sympathetic that ever and anon it seemed could i but retire and hide in that silent bosom for one calm winter all would be told me and tranquillity deep as my desire be mine but the law of my being was on me and man and nature it they called on me for my beautiful gifts they themselves with them nor cared to know the heart of the o how cruel they seemed at last as they visited and me yet never sought to aid me or even paused to think that i might need their aid yet i would not hate them i saw it was my seeming riches that me of sympathy i saw they could not know what was hid beneath the perpetual veil of glowing life i ceased to expect aught from them and turned my eyes to the distant stars i thought could i but from the daily expenditure of my till i grew tall enough i might reach those distant which looked so silent and consecrated and there pause a while from these weary joys of endless life and in the lap of winter find my spring but not so was my hope to be fulfilled one night i was looking hoping when a sudden breeze came up it touched me i thought as if it were a cold white beam from those stranger worlds the cold gained upon my heart every blossom trembled every leaf grew and the fruit began to seem with the stem soon i lost all feeling and morning found the pride of the garden black stiff and powerless as the rays of the morning sun touched me consciousness returned and i strove to speak but in vain sealed were my fountains and all my heart beats still i felt that i had been that tree but now only was � what � i knew not yet i was and the voices of men said it is dead cast it forth and plant another in the costly a mystic shudder of pale joy then separated me wholly from my former abode a moment more and i was before the queen and guardian of the flowers of this being i cannot speak to thee in any language now possible us for this is a the of lake being of another order from thee an order whose presence thou feel nay approach step by step but which cannot be known till thou art it nor seen nor spoken of till thou hast passed through it suffice it to say that it is not such a being as men love to paint a fairy � like them only lesser and more exquisite than they a goddess larger and of proportion an angel � like still only with an added power man never he only the lines and colors of his own existence only a fancy could from the elements the form that took me home secret radiant profound ever and never to be known was she many forms indicate and none declare her like all such beings she was feminine 