When my bier is borne to the grave
And its burden is laid in the ground
Think not that Rumi is there,
Nor cry, like the mourners around,
He is gone,--all is over--farewell!
But go on your ways again,
And forgetting your own petty loss,
Remember his infinite gain.
For, know that this world is a tent,
And life but a dream in the night,
Till death plucks the curtain apart
And awakens the sleeper with light.
--_R. H. Stoddard, From the Persian._
2104
The knowledge of the world is only to be acquired in the world, and not
in the closet.
2105