A HINDU THRENODY
The day our sinews thrilled with wholesome toil,
When bullocks lowed, when plowshares cleft the soil,
When thankful bread we ate and soft we lay--
Hath passed away, hath passed away.
The day when Comfort filled the house, when light
And warmth of Friendship blessed the cheery night,
When rice we had, and fire--that pleasant day
Hath passed away, hath passed away.
The day when all the world was harsh and cold;
When, scorned of Youth, we quavered, weak and old,
When backs were bare and plains were bleak--that day
Hath passed away, hath passed away.
The day we loved--(Oh, Dust of Hearts, be still!)--
The day we mourned--all days of good or ill
Are one at last, for Time's deceiving day
Hath passed away, hath passed away.
Then heed the word that comforted a King--
That Birbal graved on Akbar's signet ring:
For, "Grief with Gladness, Adamant with Clay,
Shall pass away, shall pass away."
