53 Buddha
On thy Lotus-seat of Night,—
Meditation closing thy eyes,—
The Star Hosts thy awe-struck devotees:
The Moon, thy halo unchanging.
White-robed time telling his beads
Of aeons on the thread of Eternity
By the ocean of space
Slumbering in peace at thy feet;
While Destiny stringing the lyre of death
Sings Nirvana’s hymn.