Would that by Hindu magic we became Dark monks of jeweled India long ago, Sitting at Prince Siddartha's feet to know The foolishness of gold and love and station, The gospel of the Great Renunciation, The ragged cloak, the staff, the rain and sun, The beggar's life, with far Nirvana gleaming: Lord, make us Buddhas, dreaming. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WIND (2) by EMILY DICKINSON TO MY HONOURED FRIEND DR. CHARLETON by JOHN DRYDEN A PRAISE OF HIS LOVE by HENRY HOWARD ON A FLY DRINKING FROM HIS CUP by WILLIAM OLDYS LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE DEATH OF HARRISON by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS TO A GIPSY CHILD BY THE SEA-SHORE by MATTHEW ARNOLD |