The months pass on; the monsoons cease to blow,
  The thunders cease to roll, the rains to pour;
  The earth, refreshed, is clothed with living green,
  And flowers burst forth where all was parched and bare,
  And busy toil succeeds long days of rest. 
  The time for mission work has come. 
  The brethren, now to many hundreds grown,
  Where’er the master thought it best were sent. 
  The strongest and the bravest volunteered
  To answer Purna’s earnest call for help,
  And clothed in fitting robes for piercing cold
  They scale the mountains, pass the desert wastes,
  Their guide familiar with their terrors grown;
  While some return to their expectant flocks,
  And some are sent to kindred lately left,
  And some to strangers dwelling near or far—­
  All bearing messages of peace and love—­
  Until but few in yellow robes remain,
  And single footfalls echo through that hall
  Where large assemblies heard the master’s words. 
  A few are left, not yet confirmed in faith;
  And those five brothers from the distant north
  Remain to learn the sacred tongue and lore,
  While Saraputra and Kasyapa stay
  To aid the master in his special work.

  From far Kosala, rich Sudata came,
  Friend of the destitute and orphans called. 
  In houses rich, and rich in lands and gold,
  But richer far in kind and gracious acts,
  Who stopped in Rajagriha with a friend. 
  But when he learned a Buddha dwelt so near,
  And heard the gracious doctrine he proclaimed,
  That very night he sought the bamboo-grove,
  While roofs and towers were silvered by the moon,
  And silent streets in deepest shadows lay,
  And bamboo-plumes seemed waving silver sprays,
  And on the ground the trembling shadows played. 
  Humble in mind but great in gracious deeds,
  Of earnest purpose but of simple heart,
  The master saw in him a vessel fit
  For righteousness, and bade him stay and learn
  His rules of grace that bring Nirvana’s rest. 
  And first of all the gracious master said: 
  “This restless nature and this selfish world
  Is all a phantasy and empty show;
  Its life is lust, its end is pain and death. 
  Waste not your time in speculations deep
  Of whence and why.  One thing we surely know: 
  Each living thing must have a living cause,
  And mind from mind and not from matter springs;
  While love, which like an endless golden chain. 
  Binds all in one, is love in every link,
  Up from the sparrow’s nest, the mother’s heart,
  Through all the heavens to Brahma’s boundless love. 
  And lusts resisted, daily duties done,
  Unite our lives to that unbroken chain
  Which draws us up to heaven’s eternal rest.” 
  And through the night they earnestly communed,
  Until Sudata saw the living truth
  In rising splendor, like the morning sun,
  And doubts and errors all are swept away
  As gathering clouds are swept by autumn’s winds.