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208 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1916
My life when young was like a flower—a flower that loosens a petal or two from her abundance and never feels the loss when the spring breeze comes to beg at her door.
Now at the end of youth my life is like a fruit, having nothing to spare, and waiting to offer herself completely with her full burden of sweetness.
Be ready to launch forth, my heart! and let those linger who must. For your name has been called in the morning sky. Wait for none! The desire of the bud is for the night and dew, but the blown flower cries for the freedom of light. Burst your sheath, my heart, and come forth!