IN MEMORY OF DR M K SINHA
And when the sun sets, and darkness descends We have to cross the river. No pain, no sorrow, no dirge, no lamentation. Why do you cry, my friend? Let us be true to earth, Let us be true to life. Let us go to an alien land And cultivate, and make rows of flower beds, And drink honey, and sleep on the heavy boughs of stars. Let us look at the humongous dark trees And bath in the mellowed dew, in morn and evening too, And lie on long untrammeled grass. Let us scent the wild