grown old?
O how unlike that other life just fled!
His youth's companions, wife and children, dead,
Yet filled with love for all, by all beloved,
With his whole heart yearning for others' good,
With his last breath bewailing others' woes."
"My best beloved," said sweet Yasodhara,
Her bright eyes filled with sympathetic tears,
Her whole soul yearning for his inward peace,
"Brood not too much on life's dark mystery--
Behind the darkest clouds the sun still shines."
"But," said the prince, "the many blindly grope
In sorrow, fear and ignorance profound,
While their proud teachers, with their heads erect,
Stalk boldly on, blind leaders of the blind.
Come care, come fasting, woe and pain for me,
And even exile from my own sweet home,
All would I welcome could I give them light."
"But would you leave your home, leave me, leave all,
And even leave our unborn pledge of love,
The living blending of our inmost souls,
That now within me stirs to bid you pause?"
"Only for love of you and him and all!
O hard necessity! O bitter cup!
But would you have me like a coward shun
The path of duty, though beset with thorns--
Thorns that must pierce your tender feet and mine?"
Piercing the question as the sharpest sword;
Their love, their joys, tempted to say him nay.
But soon she conquered all and calmly said:
"My love, my life, where duty plainly calls
I bid you go, though my poor heart must bleed,
And though my eyes weep bitter scalding tears."

Their hearts too full for words, too full for tears,
Gently he pressed her hand and they passed home;
And in the presence of this dark unknown
A deep and all-pervading tenderness
Guides every act and tempers every tone--
As in the chamber of the sick and loved
The step is light, the voice is soft and low.
But soon their days with varied duties filled,
Their nights with sweet repose, glide smoothly on,
Until this shadow seems to lift and fade--
As when the sun bursts through the passing storm,
Gilding the glittering raindrops as they fall,
And paints the bow of hope on passing clouds.
Yet still the old sad thoughts sometimes return,
The burden of a duty unperformed,
The earnest yearning for a clearer light.
The thought that hour by hour and day by day
The helpless multitudes grope blindly on,
Clouded his joys and often banished sleep.

One day in this sad mood he thought to see