July 5
Companions of the Way (Morning)That mortality might be swallowed up of life.
HE who died at Azan sends This to comfort faithful friends:
Faithful friends! it lies, I know, Pale and white and cold as snow; And ye say, "Abdullah's dead!" Weeping at my feet and head; I can see your falling tears, I can hear your cries and prayers; Yet I smile and whisper this— "I am not that thing you kiss; Cease your tears, and let it lie; It was mine, it is not I." Sweet friends! what the women lave, For its last bed in the grave, Is a tent that I am quitting, Is a garment no more fitting, Is a cage from which, at last, Like a hawk my soul hath passed. Love the inmate, not the room; The wearer, not the garb; the plume Of the falcon, not the bars Which kept him from the splendid stars.
SIR EDWIN ARNOLD
THE GATE OF LIFE