Reed of the Yamuna

 

Reed of the Yamuna,

The flute-boy is come,

 But ere through your body

The mad rhythms hum,

 

O reed of the river,

Much sorrow and strain

 Will be yours — the cleansing,

The shaping, notched pain.

 

From touch of sweet waters

And cool fragrant sand,

 The strong hand shall wrench you,

The passionate hand.

 

But when it puts through you,

With swiftness and poise,

The small knife of silver,

Be glad and rejoice.

 

Reed of the Yamuna,

The mute agony

Will pass through your being

And set your soul free;

 

Will pass like a dark spell,

 And you who endured,

Find music and meaning

In the breath of the Lord.

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