The Song Of The Sikh
"Ah ! Well, let my hair grow long;
I cannot forget the knot He tied on my head;
It is sacred, it is his mark of remembrance.
The Master has bathed me
In the light of suns not yet seen;
There is eternity bound in this tender fragile knot.
I touch the sky when I touch my hair,
And a thousand stars twinkle through the night.
Who says the hair is no more than grass ?
Yet a single hair is a dear remembrance,
An heirloom, a trust, a pledge, a love,
A vow, an inspiration.
My form is but a statue of dumb gratitude
for The knot of Friendship tied by those Kings of Eternity,
The Gurus who came to the Punjab;
The Saviours who were gracious to love me,
and Made me a home in the Realm of Eternal Beauty."