A MESSAGE CAME from my youth of vanished days, saying, 1 wait for you among the quiverings of unborn May, where smiles ripen for tears and hours ache with songs unsung.'
It says, 'Come to me across the worn-out track of age, through the gates of death. For dreams fade, hopes fail, the gathered fruits of the year decay, but I am the eternal truth, and you shall meet me again and again in your voyage of life from shore to shore.'

THE RAIN HAS held back for days and days, my God, in my arid heart. The horizon is fiercely naked-not the thinnest cover of a soft cloud, not the vaguest hint of a distant cool shower.
Send thy angry storm, dark with death, if it is thy wish, and with lashes of lightning startle the sky from end to end.
But call back, my lord, call back this pervading silent heat, still and keen and cruel, burning the heart with dire despair.
Let the cloud of grace bend low from above like the tearful look of the mother on the day of the father's wrath.

আয় চলে আয়, রে ধূমকেতু,
    আঁধারে বাঁধ্‌ অগ্নিসেতু,
        দুর্দিনের এই দুর্গশিরে
    উড়িয়ে দে তোর বিজয়-কেতন।
অলক্ষণের তিলক-রেখা
    রাতের ভালে হোক-না লেখা--
        জাগিয়ে দে রে চমক মেরে
            আছে যারা অর্ধচেতন।