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 .