THOU DIDST well to turn me back when I came begging.
In thy parting glance I saw a smile; and since then
I have learnt my lesson. I break my old alms bowl,
I wait for my chance to give what is mine.
From the morning crowds have gathered at thy gateway.
Let their need be all fulfilled. When at the fall of night they disperse, and cries are hushed; when stars seem listening to some epic of the age before their birth-time, of the fight of new-born light with ancient darkness,
to thy feet I come with homage of my longing:
'Take my lute in thine own hand and play it, Master.'

১৯
আমার বাণীর পতঙ্গ গুহাচর
    আয় গহ্বর ছেড়ে--
গোধূলিতে এল শেষ যাত্রার অবসর,
    হারিয়ে যা পাখা নেড়ে॥  

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.'