Thus the Mahatma, on a fair March Morn,

Set forth what time the blushing dawn

Spread her tinted wings o'er Sabarmathi,

O'er the world and the dwelling of Gandhi;

From the Ashram there emerged the figure

Familiar, leading a band of vigour,

Of hope and faith, all so eager and glad

To follow their great leader humbly clad.

The surging crowd without then raised a cheer

That rent the silent air; ’twas loud and clear.

Lovingly for a moment the crowd he eyed,

His heart went forth to them–he sadly Sighed,

As once again on them he cast his eyes,

Then raised them with a prayer to the skies–

Waiting as though to receive from above

Blessings of Him whom he does so much love,

Then said he, "With freedom won here I’ll be,

Or else my body shall float in the sea."

Arose a murmur from the saddened crowd,

The women wept; men all silently bowed

In sadness for a while; then shouted, "Nay,

Victory shall be thine–Gandhi-ki-jai."