To the Punjab Peasant

WHAT is this life of yours, tell me its mystery—
Trampled. in dust is your ages-old history!
Deep in that dust has been smothered your flame—
Wake, and hear dawn its high summons proclaim
Creatures of dust from the soil may draw bread:
Not in that darkness is Life's river fed!
Base will his metal be held, who on earth
Puts not to trial his innermost worth!
Break all the idols of tribe and of caste,
Break the old customs that fetter men fast
Here is true victory, here is faith's crown—
One creed and one world, division thrown down
Cast on the soil of your clay the heart's seed
Promise of harvest to come, is that seed