Fourteen sonnets and poems/Hope
WITHOUT haste, without rest,
Teach the prophets of to-day;
Bind this motto to thy breast,
Grant not Nirvana, Lord, I pray.
No days are overfilled with woe,
No nights but lights are on the way,
And when my soul to Thee must go,
Withhold Nirvana, Lord, I pray.
To me divine the life that is
More good than evil, gay than grave;
I could not think it to resign,
And for Nirvana then to crave.
I only ask myself to keep
In conscious life in that great day;
Engulf it not in essence deep,
Or blank Nirvana, Lord, I pray.