GHANDI DEAD
As the brave gull the width of waters sol Endured the image of eternity, I went weighted with the invisible, And more insistent than the shouting streets Were the thin voices calling through the veil, WAS the bridge across which messengers Went. carrying palms, I was the shell whose murmurs Of peace could not persuade: only by wasting Could I become the master of floods, by weakness ; See my sole will arrest the rush of hate. OW I am dead, the people think of me A g0d with folded hands, my small desires. All smouldeted out beneath my cone of rest: But I am not raised so high in prayer that I Lose India like a child, my love asleep, N? cry shall flee through India but its pain Shall darken round me, no division rend The feartul land but I too feel the . sword: No blood shall bloom but I must weat again | The rose of death, for I am India.
J. R.
Hervey
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New Zealand Listener, Volume 18, Issue 452, 20 February 1948, Page 8
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167GHANDI DEAD New Zealand Listener, Volume 18, Issue 452, 20 February 1948, Page 8
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