Classic Poem

K ISAGOTAMI saw her first child's face;
She saw him grow in knowledge and in grace;
But it was only for a little space.

Kisagotami saw him lying dead;
Against her heart she pressed his curly head,
And forth into the neighbors' houses sped.

“Something to heal my darling's hurt!” she cried.
“Girl, thou art mad,” was all that each replied.
But one: “Thy cure with Buddha doth abide.”

Still holding the dead child against her heart,
She found the prophet, and made known her smart:
“Buddha, canst cure him with thy wondrous art?”

“A grain of mustard-seed,” the sage replied,
“Found where none old or young has ever died,
Will cure the pain you carry in your side.”

Kisagotami wandered forth again,
And in the homes of many hundred men
She sought the seed where death had never been.

'Twas all in vain. Then in a lonely wood
Her child with leaves she buried as she could,
And once again in Buddha's presence stood.

“Daughter,” he said, “hast found the magic seed?”
And she: “I find that every heart doth bleed;
That every house of death hath taken heed.”

Then Buddha said: “This knowledge is thy cure.
Thy sorrow, soon or late, for all is sure;
Therefore, my child, be patient and endure.”