Page:Fourteen sonnets and poems.djvu/55



ITHOUT haste, without rest, Teach the prophets of to-day; Bind this motto to thy breast, Grant not Nirvana, Lord, I pray.

No days are overfilled with woe, No nights but lights are on the way, And when my soul to Thee must go, Withhold Nirvana, Lord, I pray.

To me divine the life that is More good than evil, gay than grave; I could not think it to resign, And for Nirvana then to crave.

I only ask myself to keep In conscious life in that great day; Engulf it not in essence deep, Or blank Nirvana, Lord, I pray.