I said:
"Come no further, Gabriel."
But I held his hand to my side; I knew that I might never do so
again. We stood thus a few seconds, then I turned my face up
suddenly, and he kissed me on the eyes. And then he left me.
Why do I write this? It is merely as a picture before me. I feel
very little now; I am so cold.
And now he walks home across the heath. Good night, Gabriel. Why did
he kiss my eyes? It was better the first time.
All past, all gone, all dead. I cannot see that I need live in this
graveyard.
Perhaps I too shall die; who knows?
THE POSTSCRIPT.
There was a man who made unto himself wings, and thought to soar
upon them; but, as he rose into high Heaven, the Sun melted the wax
wherewith he had fastened the pinions on to his body, and the poor
fool, sinking to earth, was drowned in deep waters.
Now, as Icarus fell into the sea, what lesson would have risen from
his heart unto the sons of men?
This?
"Children of earth, the earthworm crawls in its blindness; be
content, for ye are such."
Or this?
"Make wings unto yourselves and fly! My wings were strong, and
should have borne me further; I fall and die, yet I have seen the
Sun.
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