Softly, thro’ the night, there comes a throbbing,
Throbbing from, the ancient temple, where
Gathered close, midst maze and happy sobbing
The people watch the portents in the air.

Old Ram can see, and Gunga’s child is laughing,
Where one was blind, the other sick to death;
The cripples dance, the useless crutches doffing-
And deaf ones list to dumb with bated breath!

 

Up there, in cloudless sky, a star is shining,
Rivaling the moon’s great golden globe;
The old folk list to learned seers opining
The birth of some Lord of light and love.

 

On every tree the flowers thickly cluster,-
Thus earth rejoicing smiles to great earth’s Lord;
Thus descended Maya’s son Siddattha,-
And banished, for that day, was all discord!

 

Plainly yet, to us, resounds the echo
Of that first VESAK, thrilling thro’ the years,
Wafting cooling breezes on life’s sorrow,
Dispelling our doubting thoughts and fears!