<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">The Trumpet</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line"><span class="smallcaps">Thy</span> trumpet lies in the dust.</p><p class="line">The wind is weary, the light is dead. Ah, the evil day!</p><p class="line">Come fighters, carrying your flags and singers with your songs!</p><p class="line">Come pilgrims, hurrying on your journey!</p><p class="line">The trumpet lies in the dust waiting for us.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">I was on my way to the temple with my evening offerings,</p><p class="line">Seeking for the heaven of rest after the day's dusty toil;</p><p class="line">Hoping my hurts would be healed and stains in my garments washed white,</p><p class="line">When I found thy trumpet lying in the dust.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Has it not been the time for me to light my lamp?</p><p class="line">Has my evening not come to bring me sleep?</p><p class="line">O, thou blood-red rose, where have my poppies faded?</p><p class="line">I was certain my wanderings were over and my debts all paid</p><p class="line">When suddenly I came upon thy trumpet lying in the dust.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Strike my drowsy heart with thy spell of youth!</p><p class="line">Let my joy in life blaze up in fire.</p><p class="line">Let the shafts of awakening fly piercing the heart of night and a thrill of dread shake the palsied blindness,</p><p class="line">I have come to raise thy trumpet from the dust.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Sleep is no more for me -- my walk shall be through showers of arrows.</p><p class="line">Some shall run out of their houses and come to my side -- some shall weep.</p><p class="line">Some in their beds shall toss and groan in dire dreams:</p><p class="line">For to-night thy trumpet shall be sounded.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">From thee I had asked peace only to find shame.</p><p class="line">Now I stand before thee -- help me to don my armor!</p><p class="line">Let hard blows of trouble strike fire into my life.</p><p class="line">Let my heart beat in pain -- beating the drum of thy victory.</p><p class="line">My hands shall be utterly emptied to take up thy trumpet.</p></div><p class="byline">-- Rabindranath Tagore.</p></body></html> · Great War