Little Poems in Prose

were too fascinated to express anything less than a deep, dull joy. Our song-makers tell us that pleasure makes the soul kind, and softens the heart; the song was right that evening as far as I was concerned; not only was I made tender by this family of eyes, but I felt a little ashamed of our bottles and glasses, that were greater than our thirst. I turned my looks to yours, dear love, to read my thought therein. I plunged into your eyes, so beautiful and so strangely sweet; into your green eyes, indwelt by caprice, and in- spired by the moon; when you said to me, “Those people are unbearable, with their eyes staring out of their heads; could you not ask the proprietor to send them away?” So difficult is it to understand each other, my dear angel, and so incommunicable is thought, even among people who love one an- other.