Letter 321

321. To Thekla

This past year a heavy frost fell upon our country and cut off the buds of the vines, which were already opening toward their travail. Those that remained, being barren, made our cups dry and waterless. Why, then, have I been moved to recite to you, as in a tragedy, the barrenness of the plants? That you yourself may become for us, in the words of Solomon, a vine in bloom, a fruitful tendril—not putting forth a cluster of grapes, but pressing out from the clusters their dew for the thirsty. And who are the thirsty? Those who are walling round the enclosure of the community. Since I am unable to give these men the mountain liquor to drink, I have had recourse to your richly clustered right hand, that you may bid your own streams flow down to us from your river, river-like. For if you do this quickly, you will both relieve the dry mouths of many, and gladden first of all, as much as may be, the Atticizing beggar that I am.