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 of mercy even as the bird cries for a drop of water from the clouds." Or in this, on the evening of death: "When death will come and pull me by the hair, they will get ready the bamboo for me, and send me out of the house with a poor earthen pitcher, stripped like a Sanyasi of my clothes." Or this from a song by a poet who was living in the time of Burns and wrote love songs that something offer his passionate sincerity: "If only my beloved would love me, the scentless  flower would grow fragrant, the thorny  would grow without a thorn, the  would flower and the sugar cane bear fruit."

Two more instances: the first is from Chandi Das, a lover's consolation: "To be a true lover, one must be able to make a frog dance in the mouth of a snake." The other is from one of the tales told by a country tale-teller or, a description of an Indian noonday so hot that "the buffalo and the bear dipping themselves in a pool doze in the very act and half close their eyes."

A fostering country, a song-loving people, inspiring forerunners and a susceptible mother-tongue—these are needed to beget the true