By Sarojini Naidu:

The Night of Martyrdom

Blackrobed, barefooted, with dim eyes that rain

Wild tears in memory of thy woeful plight,

And hands that in blind, rhythmic anguish smite

Their bloodstained bosoms to sad refrain

From the old haunting legion of thy pain,

Thy votaries mourn thee through the tragic night

With mystic dirge and melancholy rite,

Crying to thee ― Hussain! Hussain!

Why do thy myriad lovers so lament?

Sweet saint, is not thy matchless martyrhood

The living banner and brave covenant

Of the high creed thy Prophet did proclaim,

Bequeathing for the world’s beautitude

Th’ enduring loveliness of Allah’s name?