Complete Works. Rabindranath Tagore

said the Word to the Work.

       "I know how poor I am when I see you," said the Work to the Word.

      139

      Time is the wealth of change, but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth.

      140

      Truth in her dress finds facts too tight.

       In fiction she moves with ease.

      141

      When I travelled to here and to there, I was tired of thee, O Road, but now when thou leadest me to everywhere I am wedded to thee in love.

      142

      Let me think that there is one among those stars that guides my life through the dark unknown.

      143

      Woman, with the grace of your fingers you touched my things and order came out like music.

      144

      One sad voice has its nest among the ruins of the years. It sings to me in the night,—"I loved you."

      145

      The flaming fire warns me off by its own glow. Save me from the dying embers, hidden under ashes.

      146

      I have my stars in the sky, But oh for my little lamp unlit in my house.

      147

      The dust of the dead words clings to thee.

       Wash thy soul with silence.

      148

      Gaps are left in life through which comes the sad music of death.

      149

      The world has opened its heart of light in the morning.

       Come out, my heart, with thy love to meet it.

      150

      My thoughts shimmer with these shimmering leaves and my heart sings with the touch of this sunlight; my life is glad to be floating with all things into the blue of space, into the dark of time.

      151

      God's great power is in the gentle breeze, not in the storm.

      152

      This is a dream in which things are all loose and they oppress. I shall find them gathered in thee when I awake and shall be free.

      153

      "Who is there to take up my duties?" asked the setting sun.

       "I shall do what I can, my Master," said the earthen lamp.

      154

      By plucking her petals you do not gather the beauty of the flower.

      155

      Silence will carry your voice like the nest that holds the sleeping birds.

      156

      The Great walks with the Small without fear.

       The Middling keeps aloof.

      157

      The night opens the flowers in secret and allows the day to get thanks.

      158

      Power takes as ingratitude the writhlings of its victims.

      159

      When we rejoice m our fulness, then we can part with our fruits with joy.

      160

      The raindrops kissed the earth and whispered,—"We are thy homesick children, mother, come back to thee From the heaven."

      161

      The cobweb pretends to catch dew-drops and catches flies.

      162

      Love! when you come with the burning lamp of pain in your hand, I can see your face and know you as bliss.

      163

      "The learned say that your lights will one day be no more." said the fire-fly to the stars.

       The stars made no answer.

      164

      In the dusk of the evening the bird of some early dawn comes to the nest of my silence.

      165

      Thoughts pass in my mind like flocks of ducks in the sky.

       I hear the voice of their wings.

      166

      The canal loves to think that rivers exist solely to supply it with water.

      167

      The world has kissed my soul with its pain, asking for its return in songs.

      168

      That which oppresses me, is it my soul trying to come out in the open, or the soul of the world knocking at my heart for its entrance?

      169

      Thought feeds itself with its own words and grows.

      170

      I have dipped the vessel of my heart into this silent hour; it has filled with love.

      171

      Either you have work or you have not. When you have to say, "Let us do something," then begins mischief.

      172

      The sunflower blushed to own the nameless flower as her kin.

       The sun rose and smiled on it, saying, "Are you well, my darling?"

      173

      "Who drives me forward like fate?"

       "The Myself striding on my back."

      174

      The clouds fill the watercups of the river, hiding themselves in the distant hills.

      175

      I spill water from my water jar as I walk on my way,

       Very little remains for my home.

      176

      The water in a vessel is sparkling; the water in the sea is dark. The small truth has words that are clear; the great truth has great silence.

      177

      Your smile was the flowers of your own fields, your talk was the rustle of your own mountain pines, but your heart was the woman that we all know.

      178

      It is the little things that I leave behind for my loved ones,—great things are for everyone.

      179

      Woman, thou hast encircled the world's heart with the depth of thy tears as the sea has the earth.

      180

      The sunshine greets me with a smile.

       The rain, his sad sister, talks to my

      181

      My flower of the day dropped its petals forgotten.

       In the evening it ripens into a golden fruit of memory.

      182

      I am like the road in the night listening to the footfalls of its memories in silence.

      183

      The evening sky to me is like a window, and a lighted lamp, and a waiting behind it.

      184

      He who is too busy doing good finds no time to be good.

      185

      I am the autumn cloud, empty of rain, see my fulness in the field of ripened rice.

      186

      They hated and killed and men praised them.

       But God in shame hastens to hide its memory under the green grass.

      187

      Toes