At its heart, this is a poem of comfort. The speaker addresses someone who is grieving, troubled, or weeping, and repeats a gentle refusal: “Nay, do not grieve,” “Nay, do not pine,” “Nay, do not weep.” She does not pretend life is easy—it is “full of sadness” and “dark with trouble”—but she insists that such pain is temporary. Dawn will still break in splendour; spring will still give beauty to the lotus blossom and ashoka leaf. Time does not pause for human sorrow, and a bitter today will soon become a forgotten yesterday. The final stanza looks forward: new hopes, dreams, and faces, and the “unspent joy” of years not yet born, will eventually win the heart away from its sorrow and dry the eyes. The mood is tender, assured, and quietly hopeful, encouraging acceptance of grief as something that passes.
Transience — Summary
Nay, do not grieve tho' life be full of sadness, Dawn will not veil her splendour for your grief. Nor spring deny their bright, appointed beauty To lotus blossom and ashoka leaf.
Nay, do not pine, tho' life be dark with trouble. Time will not pause or tarry on his way ; To-day that seems so long, so strange, so bitter. Will soon be some forgotten yesterday.
Nay, do not weep ; new hopes, new dreams, new faces, The unspent joy of all the unborn years. Will prove your heart a traitor to its sorrow. And make your eyes unfaithful to their tears.