And behold! there ran thro’ the market,
Hard by where the Dreamer stood,
A natural, void of desire
Save for warmth of the sun or of fire
Or for softness abed or food.
Naught held he dearer in mind,
Save the branchèd lightning veins;
And in naught more strongly rejoiced
Save the sound of the thunder deep-voiced
Or the fertile flash of the rains
Or the seas climbing into the harbour;
And so thro’ the market he ran
Happy and careless and free
( Him no man heeded for he
Was a boy who would ne'er be a man )
Munching the gift of a cake,
A pilfered apple or fig,
Or danced with his shadow awhile,
Smiling a secret smile,
Or twirled a hued whirligig.
And the Dreamer called to him, “Come!”
As he skipped in the sun with his Shadow.
And the boy came doubtful and shy
With a timid foot and eye,
As a young horse comes in a meadow.
And the Dreamer touched his cheek
And murmured, “Be not afraid,”
And the boy took heart and smiled,
For the voice was tender and mild,
And then half sadly it said,
“Oh! ye who have called me the Master,
The Teller of Truth, and the Wise,
Oh! ye who have strayed in the dark
Give ear to my saying and mark,
For I give you a pearl of price,
“A dark saying, and a hard saying
To those who read it aright —
This natural, whom ye see,
Is wiser, Oh! blind ones, than ye,
And thus have I learned in the night.”