Buddha ! my earthly memory is so dimmed By this poor passing life which travels a hem Across my soul, and thought I cannot stem Pours like a flood to
IT was a dark and solitary path, a narrow, hardly perceptible, footway in a dense forest, hemmed in by two walls of impenetrable thorns and wild creepers, covering, as with
SAFELY returned from my long tour of ten months, my first duty upon reaching home is to remind the Branches that the time approaches for the Annual Meeting of the
