O dark and cruel creeds, O perfect love, Fitter for heaven than this sad world of ours! More than enough the prince had seen and heard. Bowed by the grievous burdens others bore, Feeling for others' sorrows as his own, Tears of divinest pity filled his eyes And deep and all-embracing love his heart. Home he returned, no more to find its rest. But soon a light shines in that troubled house-- A son is born to sweet Yasodhara. Their eyes saw not, neither do ours, that sun Whose light is wisdom and whose heat is love, Sending through nature waves of living light, Giving its life to everything that lives, Which through the innocence of little ones As through wide-open windows sends his rays To light the darkest, warm the coldest heart. Sweet infancy! life's solace and its rest, Driving away the loneliness of age, Wreathing in smiles the wrinkled brow of care, Nectar to joyful, balm to troubled hearts, Joyful once more is King Suddhodana; A placid joy beams from that mother's face; Joy lit the palace, flew from street to street, And from the city over hill and plain; Joy filled the prince's agitated soul-- He felt a power, from whence he could not tell, Drawing away, he knew not where it led. He knew the dreaded separation near, Yet half its pain and bitterness was passed. He need not leave his loved ones comfortless-- His loving people still would have their prince, The king in young Rahula have his son, And sweet Yasodhara, his very life, Would have that nearest, dearest comforter To soothe her cares and drive away her tears.[1]