Awake

As a theory of [satyagraha] which must of necessity grow and expand because it carries within itself the immortal function of life. The fire of satyagrha had been kindled in the temple or ashrama where Mahatma Gandhi is the high priest or …

Stand here with me with the stars and hills for witness and in their presence consecrate your life and your talent, your song and your speech, your thought and your dream to the Motherland. O Poet, see visions from the hill tops

Caprice You held a wild flower in your finger -tips, Idly you pressed it to indifferent lips, Idly you tore its crimson leaves apart... Alas! It was my heart You held wine-cup in your finger-tips, Lightly you raised it to indifferent lips,

Good Heavens! She said ‘grass and goats milk? Never!’

Song like a rose should be; Each rhyme a petal sweet; For fragrance, melody, That when her lips repeat The words, her heart may know What secret makes them so:—

And also there’s a little star So white a virgin’s it must be:— Perhaps the lamp my love in heaven Hangs out to light the way for me.