Gitanjali and Fruit-gathering (1918) (14781200774)


Gitanjali and Fruit-gathering (1918) (14781200774)



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
Publisher: New York, The Macmillan Company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

Text Appearing Before Image:
balm. Who are you, merciful one? askedthe woman. The time, at last, has come to visityou, and I am here, replied the youngascetic. FRUIT-GATHERING 151 XXXVIII This is no mere dallying of love be-tween us, my lover. Again and again have swooped downupon me the screaming nights of storm,blowing out my lamp: dark doubtshave gathered, blotting out all starsfrom my sky. Again and again the banks haveburst, letting the flood sweep away myharvest, and wailing and despair haverent my sky from end to end. This have I learnt that there areblows of pain in your love, never thecold apathy of death. 152 FRUIT-GATHERING XXXIX The wall breaks asunder, light, likedivine laughter, bursts in.Victory, O Light! The heart of the night is pierced! With your flashing sword cut intwain the tangle of doubt and feebledesires! Victory! Come, Implacable! Come, you who are terrible in yourwhiteness. O Light, your drum sounds in themarch of fire, and the red torch isheld on high; death dies in a burst ofsplendour!
Text Appearing After Image:
Painted hij Xnhindraiuitli Tagorc The wall breaks asunder, light, like divine laughter,bursts in FRUIT-GATHERING I5i XL O FraE, my brother, I sing victory toyou. You are the bright red image of fear-ful freedom. You swing your arms in the sky,you sweep your impetuous fingersacross the harp-string, your dance mu-sic is beautiful. TMien my days are ended and thegates are opened you will burn to ashesthis cordage of hands and feet. My body will be one with you, myheart will be caught in the whirls ofyour frenzy, and the burning heat thatwas my life will flash up and mingle it-self in your flame. 154 FRUIT-GATHERING XLI The Boatman is out crossing the wildsea at night. The mast is aching because of its fullsails filled with the violent wind. Stung with the nights fang the sky-falls upon the sea, poisoned with blackfear. The waves dash their heads againstthe dark unseen, and the Boatman isout crossing the wild sea. The Boatman is out, I know not forwhat tryst, startling the night with thes





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gitanjali and fruit gathering 1918
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