When Day Is Done
If the day is done ,
If birds sing no more .
If the wind has fiagged tired ,
Then draw the veil of darkness thick upon me ,
Even as thou hast wrapt the earth with
The coverlet of sleep and tenderly closed ,
The petals of the drooping lotus at dusk.
From the traverer,
Whose sack of provisions is empty before the voyage is ended ,
Whose garment is torn and dust-laden ,
Whose strength is exhausted,remove shame and poverty ,
And renew his life like a flower under
The cover of thy kindly night
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