Opening a window to the heart leads an unquenchable furnace to burn.
A little wind crept round the house
It rattled the windows and door handles
‘Let me in—let me in’, it lamented.
But I pulled the curtain and lighted my lamp.
‘O, how can you be so cruel’, sobbed the wind
‘My wings are tired: I want to go to sleep in your arms
There is peace in your heart, and a soft place for a tired child’.
I bent low over my books
‘The night is so dark and the shadows are hurting me’.
I opened my window, leaned out and took the wind to my bosom
For a moment he lay silent
Then drew a long breath and opened his eyes
He sprang from my arms—blew out the lamp
Scattered the book leaves, leapt and danced on the floor
‘Did you know’, he sang,
‘There was a spark in your heart
I have kindled it into flame with my breath—
Now rest if you can’.