Violets and Other Tales

								

soul, and so permeated my whole being with rest and peace, that my lips
smiled and my eyes drooped in access of fulsome joy. Into the
illimitable space of infinity we drifted, my soul and I, borne along
only by the network of auburn hair that floated about me in the green
waters.



       *       *       *       *       *
But now, a rude grasp from somewhere is laid upon me, pressing upon my
face. Instantly the air grows gloomy, gray, and the ocean rocks
menacingly, while the great bells grow harsh and strident, as they hint
of a dark fate. I clasp my hands appealingly to the heavens; I moan and
struggle with the unknown grasp; then there is peace and the sweet
content of the infinite Nirvana.
Then slowly, softly, the net of auburn hair begins to drag me down below
the surface of the sea. Oh! the skies are so sweet, and now that the
tender stars are looking upon us, how fair to stay and sway upon the
breast of eternity! But the net is inexorable, and gently, slowly pulls
me down. Now we sink straight, now we whirl in slow, eddying circles,
spiral-like; while at each turn those bells ring out clanging now in
wild crescendo, then whispering dread secrets of the ocean's depths. Oh,
ye mighty bells, tell me from your learned lore of the hopes of mankind!
Tell me what fruit he beareth from his strivings and yearnings; know not
ye? Why ring ye now so joyful, so hopeful; then toll your dismal
prophecies of o'er-cast skies?
Years have passed, and now centuries, too, are swallowed in the gulf of
eternity, yet the auburn net still whirls me in eddying circles, down,
down to the very womb of time; to the innermost recesses of the mighty
ocean.



       *       *       *       *       *
And now, peace, perfect, unconditioned, sublime peace, and rest, and
silence. For to the great depths of the mighty ocean the solemn bells
cannot penetrate, and no sound, not even the beatings of one's own
heart, is heard. In the heart of eternity there can be nothing to break
the calm of frozen æons. In the great white hall I lay, silent,
unexpectant, calm, and smiled in perfect content at the web of auburn
hair which trailed across my couch. No passionate longing for life or
love, no doubting question of heaven or hell, no strife for carnal
needs,--only rest, content, peace--happiness, perfect, whole, complete,
sublime.
And thus passed ages and ages, æons and æons. The great earth there in
the dim distance above the ocean has toiled wearily about the sun, until
its mechanism was failing, and the warm ardor of the lover's eye was
becoming pale and cold from age, while the air all about the fast
dwindling sphere was heavy and thick with the sorrows and heartaches and
woes of the humans upon its face. Heavy with the screams and roar of
war; with the curses of the deceived of traitors; with the passionate
sighs of unlawful love; with the crushing unrest of blighted hopes.
Knowledge and contempt of all these things permeated even to the inmost