Gitanjali | Page 4

what useless
inconsequence.' An innocence, a simplicity that one does not find
elsewhere in literature makes the birds and the leaves seem as near to
him as they are near to children, and the changes of the seasons great
events as before our thoughts had arisen between them and us. At times
I wonder if he has it from the literature of Bengal or from religion, and
at other times, remembering the birds alighting on his brother's hands, I
find pleasure in thinking it hereditary, a mystery that was growing
through the centuries like the courtesy of a Tristan or a Pelanore.
Indeed, when he is speaking of children, so much a part of himself this
quality seems, one is not certain that he is not also speaking of the
saints, 'They build their houses with sand and they play with empty
shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float
them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of
worlds. They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets.
Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while
children gather pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for
hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.'
W.B. YEATS September 1912
GITANJALI

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou
emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast
breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy
and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine.
Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.
When thou commandest me to sing it seems that my heart would break
with pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come to my eyes.
All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet
harmony--and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight
across the sea.
I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer
I come before thy presence.
I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy feet which
I could never aspire to reach.
Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee friend who
art my lord.
I know not how thou singest, my master! I ever listen in silent
amazement.
The light of thy music illumines the world. The life breath of thy music
runs from sky to sky. The holy stream of thy music breaks through all
stony obstacles and rushes on.
My heart longs to join in thy song, but vainly struggles for a voice. I
would speak, but speech breaks not into song, and I cry out baffled. Ah,
thou hast made my heart captive in the endless meshes of thy music,
my master!

Life of my life, I shall ever try to keep my body pure, knowing that thy
living touch is upon all my limbs.
I shall ever try to keep all untruths out from my thoughts, knowing that
thou art that truth which has kindled the light of reason in my mind.
I shall ever try to drive all evils away from my heart and keep my love
in flower, knowing that thou hast thy seat in the inmost shrine of my
heart.
And it shall be my endeavour to reveal thee in my actions,
knowing it
is thy power gives me strength to act.
I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works that I
have in hand I will finish afterwards.
Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor
respite,
and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil.
Today the summer has come at my window with its sighs and

murmurs; and the bees are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the
flowering grove.
Now it is time to sit quite, face to face with thee, and to sing dedication
of live in this silent and overflowing leisure.
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it droop and
drop into the dust.
I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of pain
from thy hand and pluck it. I fear lest the day end before I am aware,
and the time of offering go by.
Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this flower in
thy service and pluck it while there is time.
My song has put off