She had not decided yet what she
would sing. But now, moved by feeling to the longing for some action in
which she might express it, she resolved to sing something in which she
could at least flutter the wings she longed to free, something in which
the angel could lift its voice, something that would delight the
believers in the angel and be as far removed from Miss Schley's
imitations as possible.
After a time she chose two songs. One was English, by a young composer,
and was called "Away." It breathed something of the spirit of the East.
The man who had written it had travelled much in the East, had drawn into
his lungs the air, into his nostrils the perfume, into his soul the
meaning of desert places. There was distance in his music. There was
mystery. There was the call of the God of Gold who lives in the sun.
There was the sound of feet that travel. The second song she chose was
French. The poem was derived from a writing of Jalalu'd dinu'r Rumi, and
told this story.
One day a man came to knock upon the door of the being he loved. A voice
cried from within the house, "/Qui est la/?" "/C'est moi/!" replied the
man. There was a pause. Then the voice answered, "This house cannot
shelter us both together." Sadly the lover went away, went into the great
solitude, fasted and prayed. When a long year had passed he came once
more to the house of the one he loved, and struck again upon the door.
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