Commemoration of Pandita Mary Ramabai, Translator of the Scriptures, 1922 A memory of yesterday's pleasures, a fear of tomorrow's dangers, a straw under my knees, a noise in my ear, a light in my eye, an anything, a nothing, a fancy, a chimera in my brain, troubles me in my prayers.

Good is not good, unless A thousand it possess, But doth waste with greediness.

Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away.

That which attempts to elevate the ugly to the level of beauty becomes neither; but an obscenity.

Who ever comes to shroud me, do not harm Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm; The mystery, the sign you must not touch, For 'tis my outward soul, Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone, Will leave this to control, And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution.