Gitanjali-49
You came down from your throne and
stood at my cottage door.
I was singing all alone in a corner,
and the melody caught your ear. You
came down and stood at my cottage
door.
Masters are many in your hall, and
songs are sung there at all hours. But
the simple carol of this novice struck
at your love. One plaintive little strain
mingled with the great music of the
world, and with a flower for a prize
you came down and stopped at my
cottage door.