To the Punjab Peasant

What is this life of yours, tell me its mystery— Trampled in dust is your ages-old history!

Deep in that dust has been smothered your flame— Wake, and hear dawn its high summons proclaim!

Creatures of dust from the soil may draw bread: Not in that darkness is Lifeʹs river fed!

Base will his metal be held, who on earth Puts not to trial his innermost worth!

Break all the idols of tribe and of caste, Break the old customs that fetter men fast!

Here is true victory, here is faithʹs crown— One creed and one world, division thrown down!

Cast on the soil of your clay the heartʹs seed: Promise of harvest to come, is that seed!