Collected Poems - Sri Aurobindo Ashram

Poems from Manuscripts 43
Is it for the too patient, sure decay
Pale-gilded Autumn, aesthete of the years,
A gorgeous death, a fading glory wears
That thus along its tufted, downy way
Creeps slothfully this ooze of amber tears,
And thus with tearful gusts your branches sway
Sighing a requiem to your emerald day?
The Just Man
Where is the man whom hope nor fear can move?
Him the wise Gods approve.
The man divine of motive pure and steadfast will
Unbent to ill,
Whose way is plain nor swerves for power or gold
The high, straight path to hold: —
Him only wise the wise Gods deem, him pure of lust;
Him only just.
Tho’ men give rubies, tho’ they bring a prize
Sweeter than Helen’s eyes —
Yea, costlier things than these things were, they shall not win
That man to sin.
Tho’ the strong lords of earth his doom desire,
He shall not heed their ire,
Nor shall the numerous commons’ stormy voice compel
His heart nor quell.
Tho’ Ocean all her purple pride unroll,
It stirs, not shakes his soul.
He sees the billows lift their cowled heads on high
With undimmed eye.