Oh born of Moslem parents Haridas! And trained in youth in Moslem creed Thy noble heart to Vaishnava truth did pass Thy holy acts thy candor plead! Is there a soul that cannot learn from thee That man must give up sect for God That thoughts of race and sect can ne'er agree With what they call Religion broad

Bottle of juice it says in the store But really, store clerk, we don’t want anymore. It’s just water and sugar, colored flavor, not nice A chemical drink that one pours over ice. In colors fantastic—bright red and lime green Juice it is not, though at first it might seem Real to those captured in maya’s strong dream