Gitanjali and Fruit-gathering (1918) (14760557506)

Identifier: gitanjalifruitga00tago (find matches)
Title: Gitanjali and Fruit-gathering
Year: 1918 (1910s)
Authors: Tagore, Rabindranath, 1861-1941 Yeats, W. B. (William Butler), 1865-1939 Tagore, Abanindranath, 1871-1951, illus Basu, Nandalala, 1883-1966
Subjects:
Publisher: New York, The Macmillan Company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation



Text Appearing Before Image:
Painlcd by Alxinindrunulh Tagore This autumn morning is tired with excess of light FRUIT-GATHERING 127 XXIII The poets mind floats and dances onthe waves of life amidst the voices ofwind and water. Now when the sun has set and thedarkened sky draws upon the sealike drooping lashes upon a weary eyeit is time to take away his pen, andlet his thoughts sink into the bottomof the deep amid the eternal secret ofthat silence. 128 FRUIT-GATHERING XXIV The night is dark and your slumberis deep in the hush of my being. Wake, O Pain of Love, for I knownot how to open the door, and I standoutside. The hours wait, the stars watch, thewind is still, the silence is heavy in myheart. Wake, Love, wake! brim my emptycup, and with a breath of song ruflOie thenight.
Text Appearing After Image:
be =~1 rH s 2 5 -^ »> o•2 ^ FRUIT-GATHERING 129 XXV The bird of the morning sings. Whence has he word of the morningbefore the morning breaks, and whenthe dragon night still holds the sky inits cold black coils? Tell me, bird of the morning, how,through the twofold night of the skyand the leaves, he found his way intoyour dream, the messenger out of theeast? The world did not believe you whenyou cried, The sun is on his way, thenight is no more. O sleeper, awake! Bare your forehead, waiting for thefirst blessing of light, and sing with thebird of the morning in glad faith. 130 FRUIT-GATHERING XXVI The beggar in me lifted his lean handsto the starless sky and cried into nightsear with his hungry voice. His prayers were to the blind Dark-ness who lay like a fallen god in adesolate heaven of lost hopes. The cry of desire eddied round achasm of despair, a wailing bird cir-cling its empty nest. But when morning dropped anchorat the rim of the East, the beggar inme leapt and cried: *B