gitanjali

THE morning sea- of silence broke into
ripples of bird songs; and the flowers
were all merry by the roadside; and
the wealth of gold was scattered
through the rift of the clouds while
we busily went on our way and paid no
heed.

We sang no glad songs nor played;
we went not to the village for barter;
we spoke not a word nor smiled; we
lingered not on the way. We
quickened our pace more and more
as the time sped by.

The sun rose to the mid sky and
doves cooed in the shade. Withered
leaves danced and whirled in the hot
air of noon. The shepherd boy
drowsed and dreamed in the shadow
of the banyan tree, and I laid myself
down by the water and stretched my
tired limbs on the grass.

My companions laughed at me in
scorn; the held their heads high and
hurried on; they never looked back
nor rested; they vanished in the
distant blue haze. They crossed many
meadows and hills, and passed
through strange, far-away countries.
All honour to you, heroic host of the
interminable path! Mockery and
reproach pricked me to rise, but
found no response in me. I gave
myself up for lost in the depth of a
glad humiliation-in the shadow of a
dim delight.

THE repose of the sun-
embroidered green gloom slowly
spread over my heart. I forgot for
what I had travelled, and I

surrendered my mind without
struggle to the maze of shadows and
songs.

At last, when I woke from my
slumber and opened my eyes, I saw
thee standing by me, flooding my
sleep with thy smile. How I had
feared that the path was long and
wearisome, and the struggle to, reach
thee was hard!