Towards democracy, page 80

66 Towards Democracy

XLIV

AM come to be the interpreter of yourself to yourself ;

[Do I not stand behind the sun and moon, do I not wait behind the air that-you breathe, for this !] Born beyond Maya I now descend into materials.

The dandelion by the path, and the pink buds of the sycamore, and the face of the sweep who comes to sweep your chimney, shall henceforth have a new meaning to you, (how do you know that I am not the chimney-sweep ?)

The nettles growing against the gate post, and the dry log on the grass where you stop and sit, the faithful tool © that is in your hand and the sweat on your forehead, the sound of the dear old village band across far fields—

These shall be for memorials between us, and I in them will surely draw towards you.

And to you, when I am dead, they shall deliver the words which still I had not sense and courage to speak. Hear them.

Where I was not faithful these shall be faithful to you; -

where I was vain and silly these shall look you clear of all vanity and silliness; where I was afraid to utter my thoughts dumb things shall utter for you words impossible to be misunderstood.

The sun shall shine, the clouds draw across the sky, the fire leap in the grate, the kettle boil—to purposes which you cannot fathom; the simplest shall look you in the