Gitanjali-81
ON many an idle day have I grieved
over lost time. But it is never lost, my
lord. Thou hast taken every moment
of my life in thine own hands.
Hidden in the heart of things thou
art nourishing seeds into sprouts,
buds into blossoms, and ripening
flowers into fruitfulness.
I was tired and sleeping on my
idle bed and imagined all work had
ceased.
In the morning I woke up and
found my garden full with wonders of
flowers.