Gitanjali-70
Is it beyond thee to be glad with the
gladness of this rhythm ? to be tossed
and lost and broken in the whirl of
this fearful joy ?
All things rush on, they stop not,
they look not behind, no power can
hold them back, they rush on.
Keeping steps with that restless,
rapid music, seasons come dancing
and pass away- colours, tunes, and
perfumes pour in endless cascades in
the abounding joy that scatters and
gives up and dies every moment.