ON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES 249
mer. Better I now mock at mine enemies, and more valiantly, now that the winter sitteth in my home.
Valiantly indeed, even when I creep into bed. Even then my hidden happiness laugheth and wantoneth ; then laugheth my dream with its lies.
I, a creeper ! Never in my life have I crept be- fore mighty ones. And if I ever lied, I lied from love. Therefore am I glad even in my wintry bed.
A poor bed warmeth me better than a rich bed; for I am jealous of my poverty. And in winter it is the most faithful unto me.
With a wickedness I begin every day : I mock at the winter by a cold bath. Therefore grumbleth my stern house-friend.
Besides -I like to tickle him with a little wax-candle so that, at last, he may let the sky come out of ashen gray dawn.
For particularly wicked am I in the morning. At an early hour, when the pail clattereth at the well, and the horses with heat whinny through gray lanes
Impatiently I wait, that, at last, the clear sky may open unto me, the wintry sky with its beard of snow, the old and white-headed man
The wintry sky, the silent, which often even keepeth back its sun !
Have I learnt from it the long bright silence? Or hath it learnt it from me ? Or hath either of us in- vented it himself?
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