House in thy soul the flickerless lamp of love,

O way-lost dupe, relume the olden flame

In the wistful temple of dream! Nurse in Faith’s grove

The memorial rose of peace no thorn can shame.

Delivered from thy Passion’s lurid gleams

And shadowing greeds, foes in the guise of friends,

Know: in the deep of hush the soul redeems:

She is the vanguard morn to darkness sends.

Her children in gloom, thy Motherland mourns and sighs,

Play Beauty’s flute like Krishna: thou art He.

If thou wilt wake, the world, aquiver, shall rise

And mitred priests of love will sing with thee.

Hate never pays, though sorrows purify,

Be poised in thy Self of love: incarnate, free.

If she resigns, who shall reveal the sky?

Soul’s night’s defeat: her dawn–sure victory.

Be pledged to noble ways–of the ancient Sun,

If lose thou must, let it be life–not love.

Shall clouds besiege thy star-dominion?

"Up! Time is fleeting!" the clarion calls above.