Ramayana 2.175b

The soul of duty, bright to see, He is the root of you and me; And all of us, who share his grief, His branches, blossom, fruit, and leaf. Now like the faithful Lakshman, we Will follow and be true as he; Our wives and kinsmen call with speed, And hasten where our lord shall lead. Yes, we will leave each well-loved spot, The field, the garden, and the cot, And, sharers of his weal and woe, Behind the pious Rama go. Our houses, empty of their stores, With ruined courts and broken doors, With all their treasures borne away. And gear that made them bright and gay: O'errun by rats, with dust o'erspread, Shrines, whence the deities have fled, Where not a hand the water pours, Or sweeps the long-neglected floors, No incense loads the evening air, No Brahmans chant the text and prayer, No fire of sacrifice is bright, No gift is known, no sacred rite; With floors which broken vessels strew, As if our woes had crushed them too-- Of these be stern Kaikeyi queen, And rule o'er homes where we have been. The wood where Rama's feet may roam Shall be our city and our home, And this fair city we forsake, Our flight a wilderness shall make. Each serpent from his hole shall hie, The birds and beasts from mountain fly, Lions and elephants in fear Shall quit the woods when we come near, Yield the broad wilds for us to range, And take our city in exchange. With Rama will we hence, content If, where he is, our days be spent."