BY B. S. SRIKANTAN

Like a lone milestone on the dusty road, I sit and wait for Thee. I ask them if they met you on their way: they pass by and heed me not …………….. Like a maimed beggar at the temple gate, I sit and sing for Thy Coming.

The noon-day heat is past. Behind a veil of purple clouds, the sun sheds his last glory. That lone foot-fall from afar tells the last from the market …………… But, I sit like a beggar at the temple gate and sing for Thy Coming.

The merry laughter of children at their play has long ceased. Perchance, they are hushed into silence over some strange fairy tale. Slowly the moon rises and sadly smiles amidst dark clouds …………… Like a beggar at the temple gate, I still sit and sing for Thy Coming.