In the hall of life, decorated with mountains, cataracts, and wild scenery, I have played long. When tired of play, each time I cried for Thee, Thou didst drop to me, through the window of my desire, new dolls of fame, friends, prosperity — to quiet me. Now, this time, Divine Mother, I will play the naughty baby. I will sob unceasingly. No more toys of earthly pleasures shall stop my cries. O Divine Mother, Thou wouldst best come soon, or I will wake all creation with my cries. All Thy sleeping children will wake and join me in a chorus of wails. Forsake the busy-ness of the housework of Thy creation! I demand attention. I demand Thee, and not playthings!