dwelling there.
But having tasted, seen and felt the joys
Of that bright world where love is all in all,
Filling each heart, inspiring every thought,
Guiding each will and prompting every act,
He yearned to see the other, darker side
Of that bright picture, where the wars and hates,
The lust, the greed, the cruelty and crime
That fill the world with pain and want and woe
Have found their dwelling-place and final goal.

Quicker than eagles soaring toward the sun
Till but a speck against the azure vault
Swoop down upon their unsuspecting prey,
Quicker than watch-fires on the mountain-top
Send warnings to the dwellers in the plain,
Led by his guides he reached Nirvana's verge,
Whence he beheld a broad and pleasant plain,
Spread with a carpet of the richest green
And decked with flowers of every varied tint,
Whose blended odors fill the balmy air,
Where trees, pleasant to sight and good for food,
In rich abundance and spontaneous grow.
A living stream, as purest crystal clear,
With gentle murmurs wound along the plain,
Its surface bright with fairer lotus-flowers
Than mortal eye on earth had ever seen,
While on its banks were cool, umbrageous groves
Whose drooping branches spicy breezes stir,
A singing bird in every waving bough,
Whose joyful notes the soul of music shed.

A mighty multitude, beyond the power
Of men to number, moved about the plain;
Some, seeming strangers, wander through the groves
And pluck the flowers or eat the luscious fruits;
Some, seeming visitors from better worlds,
Here wait and watch as for expected guests;
While angel devas, clothed in innocence,
Whose faces beam with wisdom, glow with love,
With loving welcomes greet each coming guest,
With loving counsels aid, instruct and guide.
And as he looked, the countless, restless throng
Seemed ever changing, ever moving on,
So that this plain, comparing great to small,
Seemed like a station near some royal town,
Greater than London or old Babylon,
Where all the roads from some vast empire meet,
And many caravans or sweeping trains
Bring and remove the ever-changing throng.
This plain a valley bordered, deep and still,
The very valley of his fearful dream
Seen from the other side, whose rising mists
Were all aglow with ever-changing light,
Like passing clouds above the setting sun,
Through which as through a glass he darkly saw