"The March Morn"

Thus the Mahatma, on a fair March Morn,
Set forth what time the blushing dawn
Spread her tinted wings o'er Sabarmathi,
O'er the world and the dwelling of Gandhi;
From the Ashram there emerged the figure
Familiar, leading a band of vigour,
Of hope and faith, all so eager and glad
To follow their great leader humbly clad.
The surging crowd without then raised a cheer
That rent the silent air; ’twas loud and clear.
Lovingly for a moment the crowd he eyed,
His heart went forth to them–he sadly Sighed,
As once again on them he cast his eyes,
Then raised them with a prayer to the skies–
Waiting as though to receive from above
Blessings of Him whom he does so much love,
Then said he, "With freedom won here I’ll be,
Or else my body shall float in the sea."
Arose a murmur from the saddened crowd,
The women wept; men all silently bowed
In sadness for a while; then shouted, "Nay,
Victory shall be thine–Gandhi-ki-jai."

We publish with pleasure this fragment of a poem by a 16-year old Tamil girl of Colombo (Ceylon) commemorating the historic morning on which Mahatma Gandhi emerged from his Ashram, resolved to "conquer or die".

Editor, TRIVENI