ON THE DRY LAND
OVER the marshes hung the gorgeous night with all his wandering bands of nomad stars, and his whole host of still ones blinked and watched.
Over the safe dry land to eastward, grey and cold, the first clear pallor of dawn was coming up above the heads of the immortal gods.
Then, as they neared at last the safety of the dry land, Love looked at the man whom he had led for so long through the marshes, and saw that his hair was white, for it was shining in the pallor of the dawn.
Then they stepped together on to the land, and the old man sat down weary on the grass, for they had wandered in the marshes for many years; and the light of the grey dawn widened above the heads of the gods.
And Love said to the old man, "I will leave you now."
And the old man made no answer, but wept softly.
Then Love was grieved in his little careless heart, and he said: "You must not be sorry that I go, nor yet regret me, nor care for me at all.
"I am a very foolish child, and was never kind to you, nor friendly. I never cared for your great thoughts, or for what was good in you, but perplexed you by leading you up and down the perilous marshes. And I was so heartless that, had you perished where I led you, it would have been nought to me, and I only stayed with you because you were good to play with.
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