And now strange rumors reach the public ear,
By home-bound pilgrims from Benares brought
And merchantmen from Rajagriha come,
That there a holy rishi had appeared
Whom all believed a very living Buddh,
While kings and peoples followed after him.
These rumors reached the sweet Yasodhara,
And stirred these musings in her watchful heart:
"Stately and tall they say this rishi is,
Gentle to old and young, to rich and poor,
And filled with love for every living thing.
But who so gentle, stately, tall and grand
As my Siddartha? Who so full of love?
And he has found the light Siddartha sought!
It must be he--my own, my best beloved!
And surely he will hither come, and bring
To his poor people, now in darkness sunk,
That living light he left his home to seek."
As the same sun that makes the cedars grow
And sends their vital force through giant oaks,
Clothes fields with green and decks the wayside flower,
And crowns the autumn with its golden fruits,
So that same love which swept through Buddha's soul
And drove him from his home to seek and save,
Warmed into brighter glow each lesser love
Of home and people, father, wife and child,[4]
And often through those long and troubled years
He felt a burning longing to return.
And now, when summer rains had ceased to fall,
And his disciples were again, sent forth,
Both love and duty with united voice
Bade him revisit his beloved home,
And Saraputra and Kasyapa joined
The master wending on his homeward way,
While light-winged rumor bore Yasodhara
This joyful news: "The holy rishi comes.
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