poetry that cross our path like flow-ers upon the hollows: as the poet's description of his sweet beloved—he asks her for water and she quenches his thirst with a glance, and he asks her name and she answers: Love, or Passion, or Beauty, or Wonders. Or his description of the pains of love:

"I passed my hand over my head and found it white; nothing whitened my head but your deser-tion, O loved ones"

Or his complete absorption in his love

"The sun rose, and the world beheld it, and my inmost parts caught fire, with love of a beauty."

Or this sweet line

"Whoever has tasted the cup of love has tasted the cup of death"

Or his description of the beloved's chastity

"And no one at midnight has ever rattled her doors."

Or the mention of the para-dox—that she made the eye go blind from weeping at her parting, and at the same time made the blind man see when his eyes fell upon her beauty; or the deft paradox the poet casts within a single stanza:

"At a wink of her eye the dead sit up; I returned to the dust and became one of the dead"

Or his description of the birds of Paradise cooing to his beloved; or this picture of the reach of her beauty's power—saying nothing of the beauty itself, but giving only its effect:

"The day the qadi saw her, he flung off his turban and let his robe trail"

Or the description of her forehead rising with the moon, so that people are bewildered whence the light came; or his prayer that his beloved come back to him though the sun should then vanish for years—noth-ing would be sweeter to him than that darkness; or his mockery, and his describing the houri as "dry

sugar"; or his fierceness and his scorn for his beloved should she do a shameful thing:

"O palm tree that with my tears I nourished— with the tears of my eyes and eyelids I watered her; when I saw another pluck fruit from her, I left her to the other, I, and cast her away"

These are flashes of beauty in these living popular songs, radiating and giving light to the whole. These songs may lack artifice, craftsman-ship, ornament, outward form, and the other things the village girl lacks; but that does not prevent there being found in them, as in the city, and as in classical verse, the elements of beauty, feeling, truth, and sincerity. They are wild flowers, in the fields and on the hills; we may travel rough distances before we find a few of them; but the sight of those few fills our heart with joy, and you will see us hastening to them, to offer them to the beloved in bouquets.