Collected Poems - Sri Aurobindo Ashram

312 Calcutta and Chandernagore, 1907 – 1910
Misfortunes and majestic harms embrace
And joys to thy own nature mated. Last,
Empire shall meet thee on some mighty field
Disputing thee with death. Thou art not ours
More than the wind that lingers for a while
To touch our hair, then passes to its home.”
And Urjoon silently caressing her,
“Muse not again, beloved Chitrangada,
Alone beside the window looking out
On the half-formed aspect and shape of things
Before sunlight was made. For God still keeps
Near to a paler world the hour ere dawn
And one who looks out from the happy, warm
And mortal limit of mankind that live
Enhoused, defended by companionship
With walls and limitations, is outdrawn
To dateless memories he cannot grasp
And infinite yearnings without form, until
The sense of an original vastness grows,
Empty of joyous detail, desolate,
In labour of a wide unfinished world.
Look not into that solemn silence! Rather
Protect thyself with joy, take in my arms
Refuge from the grey summons and defend
Thy soul until God rises with the sun.
Friendly to mortals is the living sun’s
Great brilliant light, friendly the cheerful noise
Of earth arising to her various tasks
And myriad hopes. But this grey hour was born
For the ascetic in his silent cave
And for the dying man whose heart released
Loosens its vibrant strings.” She answered him,
“Near to the quiet truth of things we stand
In this grey moment. Neither happy light
Nor joyful sound deceives the listening heart,
Nor Night inarms, the Mother brooding vast,
To comfort us with sleep. It helps me not