Where twilight reigned, and grim and ghastly forms,
With flaming swords, obstruct his onward way,
But his all-conquering love still urged him on,
When with wild shrieks they vanished in thin air;
And then he climbed, clinging to jutting cliffs,
And stunted trees that from each crevice grew,
Till weary, breathless, he regained the heights,
To see that light nearer, but still so far.

And thus he slept, and thus sometimes he dreamed,
But rose before the dawn had tinged the east,
Before the jungle-cock had made his call,
When thoughts are clearest, and the world is still,
Refreshed and strengthened for his daily search
Into the seeds of sorrow, germs of pain,
After a light to scatter doubts and fears.

But when the coming day silvered the east,
And warmed that silver into softest gold,
And faintest rose-tints tinged the passing clouds,
He, as the Vedas taught, each morning bathed
In the clear stream that murmured near his cave,
Then bowed in reverence to the rising sun,
As from behind the glittering mountain-peaks
It burst in glory on the waking world.

Then bowl and staff in hand, he took his way
Along his mountain-path and through the grove,
And through the gardens, through the fruitful fields,
Down to the city, for his daily alms;