PRAYER

A wind-bell hung at the gateway of an ancient temple

And played the music taught it by the wind,

At times soft, like bubbles breaking in a fountain,

When the breeze of summer night caressed it,

Then loud and jangling when the typhoon swept across the sea,

Or low and moaning when the temple gongs sounded for prayer.

And the people,

Who never heard the music of the wind,

Paused to listen to the wind-bell,

And then passed on through the temple gate,

With music echoing in their ears.

O Maker of all music,

Let me be as the wind-bell by the temple.