The Complete Works. O. Henry

the brothers of each!” And Dakta made her rounds, bringing two to sit next to the Treasurer, two next to the Leader, two next to the Mender, and two next to the Light Bearer, coming herself to curl up at her master’s feet.

      His eyes traveled over the men seated about him, now all with their heads erect and smiles upon their faces, and joy radiating from them all.

      In a voice sweeter than any music, he said:

      “Hell becomes Heaven when there is Harmonv!

      Is it not so, Brothers?”

The Senses

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      SEEING: —

      From my nest on shore I gaze across the sea to a tiny speck of white which appears on the horizon — a fluttering sail.

      Suddenly, a swiftly darting thing of gray — a puff of smoke —

      I strain my eyes in vain, but nowhere can be seen a fluttering sail of white or the darting thing of gray.

      Only the ever-moving sea, gleaming with light!

      FEELING: —

      What tragedy has been enacted?

      How many souls have silently bid adieu to the sunshine and the sea?

      To what home is the news carried?

      How many hearts are made to suffer?

      How many homes bereft?

      TASTING: —

      I sit and gaze from my nest on land, but only a wall of gray can I distinguish.

      Suddenly upon my lips a taste of salt!

      Can it be that I, too, have been submerged and the waters of the sea caress my lips?

      Alas! no! for the gray wall fades away and before my eyes is a sunlit sea with nothing in sight and upon my lips only my tears.

      HEARING: —

      From out my nest I gaze upon the sea. Gray it is, from leaden sky.

      A deadly silence — then the tramp of myriad feet.

      Suddenly the stillness is shattered by a volley and the last honors of the land are given to my all!!

      TOUCHING; —

      From outside my nest I gaze upon the sea.

      My hands clasp only the leaves of many flowers and dampened earth, when leaden sky is reft and the tears of the angels of heaven fall upon my head in understanding, — and are added to the sea!

      From out my nest I gaze across the sea.

      A sunlit, sparkling sea

      A gleaming dancing sea —

      “All joy! all hope! be thine,”

      It seems to say,

      “For life has just begun.”

Fancies

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      Birds go seeking

      Mates,

      All on a day made gay.

      “Trees are blooming,

      Branches waiting, —

      Will you come?”

      Shy the answer —

      Swift surrender —

      Roundelays are heard.

      Time is flying,

      Summer coming,

      When the families

      Say farewell.

      In a pasture green

      Fair flowers bloom;

      Gay their faces —

      Bright their dresses.

      Swiftly seeking,

      Whirling, wheeling,

      Comes a flock

      At noon.

      “Here are daisies,

      Sweetest grasses,

      Buttercups and clover,

      Let us linger, sip and treasure.”

      Summer passes,

      Grasses perish,

      But in sweetness

      Is Springtime cherished.

      Daylight passes,

      Night approaches,

      Lights begin to gleam.

      In the houses

      One can fancy

      Nestlings tucked to rest.

      Good night, sea,

      Good night world,

      All my soul goes out

      To thee.

      Happy meeting,

      Friendly greeting

      Upon the milky way,

Trusting

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      Upon the ocean wide

      Two little ships set sail.

      Over an ocean blue

      Two little birds sailed true.

      Kneeling upon a nursery floor

      Two little children fair.

      Under a star-lit sky

      A youth and a maiden, shy.

      With sightless eyes and folded hands,

      Old age murmurs,”

      God knows best.”

      Faith — trust — love — courage! That is all — God does the rest.

Thoughts

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      Thinking, thinking, thinking,

      As the needle travels to and fro

      Through sheerest linen — finest lace-

      Weaving patterns — all unseen,

      Upon its face.

      Pictures vivid, pictures dim,

      Pictures gay and with sadness grim,

      Tiny feet — clinging hands —

      All are in the fabric’s sheen.

      Unseen tracery takes its place,

      To weave again its mystic theme.

Thinking

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