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The Curse at Farewell
THE CURSE AT FAREWELL
A cover, travellers, till the fierce noon pass,
Shall rest; students (how oft!), couched on your grass,
Like me, amid your lonely shadows great,
Lulled by the insect-hum, shall meditate.
The rishis’* sons, after their morning dip,
Shall hang to dry their dress of bark * adrip
Upon your branches; herd-boys in deep noon
Shall play beneath your boughs. Oh, grant this boon |
With these remember your old comrade, me !
DEDJANI Recall our sacrificial cow,’ for she Gave you to drink her milk, like nectar; now Do not through pride neglect this holy cow.
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