th slow decay.[12]
"Can this be wisdom? Can such a life be good
That shuns all duties lying in our path--
Useless to others, filled with grief and pain?
Not so my father's god teaches to live.
Rising each morning most exact in time,
He bathes the earth and sky with rosy light
And fills all nature with new life and joy;
The cock's shrill clarion calls us to awake
And breathe this life and hear the bursts of song
That fill each grove, inhale the rich perfume
Of opening flowers, and work while day shall last.
Then rising higher, he warms each dank, cold spot,
Dispels the sickening vapors, clothes the fields
With waving grain, the trees with golden fruit,
The vines with grapes; and when 'tis time for rest,
Sinks in the west, and with new glory gilds
The mountain-tops, the clouds and western sky,
And calls all nature to refreshing sleep.
If he be God, the useful are like God;
If not, God made the sun, who made all men
And by his great example teaches them
The diligent are wise, the useful good."

Sorely perplexed he called his counselors,
Grown gray in serving their beloved king,
And said: "Friends of my youth, manhood and age,
So wise in counsel and so brave in war,
Who never failed in danger or distress,
Oppressed with fear, I come to you for aid.
You know the prophecies, that from my house
Shall come a king, or savior of the world.
You saw strange signs precede Siddartha's birth,
And saw the ancient sage whom no one knew
Fall down before the prince, and hail my house.
You heard him tell the queen she soon would die,
And saw her sink in death as in sweet sleep;
You laid her gently on her funeral pile,
And heard my cry of anguish, when the sage
Again appeared and bade me not to weep
For her as dead who lived and loved me still.
We saw the prince grow up to man's estate,
So strong and full of manliness and grace,
And wise beyond his teachers and his years,
And thought in him the prophecies fulfilled,
And that with glory he would rule the world
And bless all men with universal peace.
But now dark shadows fall athwart our hopes.
Often in sleep the prince will start and cry
As if in pain, 'O world, sad world, I come!'
But roused, he'll sometimes sit the livelong day,
Forgetting teachers, sports and even food,
As if with dreadful visions overwhelmed,
Or buried in great thoughts profound and deep.
But yet to