gitanjali

HAVE you not heard his silent steps?
He comes, comes, ever comes.

Every moment and every age,
every day and every night he comes,
comes, ever comes.

Many a song have I sung in many a
mood of mind, but all their notes have
always proclaimed, "He comes,
comes, ever comes."

In the fragrant days of sunny April
through the forest path he comes,
comes, ever comes.

In the rainy gloom of July nights
on the thundering chariot of clouds
he comes, comes, ever comes.

In sorrow after sorrow it is his
steps that press upon my heart, and it
is the golden touch of his feet that
makes my joy to shine.