As Psyche wandered one day, she saw a lofty temple perched on the peak of a high mountain.
"Perhaps this is where I can perform my prayers to my beloved," she said to herself. Then she turned her steps thither. Her feet were utterly weary from her unremitting labors, but her hope and aspiration quickened them. She mounted the higher ridges with a stout heart and drew close to the sacred altar.
There she saw ears of wheat in a heap, and others woven into a garland, and ears of barley as well. There were sickles lying close by and a whole array of harvesting tools, but they were in a jumbled and neglected heap, thrown carelessly by workmen's hands in summer-time.
Psyche carefully sorted them out and ordered them in separate piles, no doubt she reflected that she should not neglect the shr
