STRUGGLE
By C. RAJAGOPALACHARI
“I
have struggled for thirty years”
Said
my friend,–
“He
was preparing for a Jubilee.
“But
who that lives struggles not?”
I
asked, and he agreed.
Life
is a struggle all the time
One
or another sort for every one;
From
when the child is pushed
Head
foremost into the cold world
Each
breath is a struggle
And
every thought is a struggle,
For
struggle is the throb of life.
Envy
not, for every soul
And
every breathing body struggles.
And
those who live in ease
They
struggle too against hated ennui.
The
fatigue you feel as the years grow
It
is the gentle voice of nature
That
you must round your stalks
And
prepare to fall away.
Spring!
And Summer! Then Autumn comes
And
the leaves that served the mother tree
And
shone in the splendour of active life
Softly
they drop with rounded stalks;
And
in golden yellow quietly smile
At
the leafy vanities that are over.
Ah,
men!
Our
foolish loves
And
our more foolish hates
They
also find their dropping dates,
And
sometimes suddenly the date arrives,
Yet
always as an unfailing friend does Death
Ring
down the curtain on our follies.