It is time for me to go, mother;… When in the paling darkness of the… your arms for your baby in the bed… here!”—mother, I am going. I shall become a delicate draught…
If you would be busy and fill your… The water will cling round your fe… The shadow of the coming rain is o… I know well the rhythm of your ste… Come, O come to my lake, if you m…
The night is black and the forest… a million people thread it in a mi… We have trysts to keep in the dark… or with whom– of that we are unawa… But we have this faith– that a lif…
The sun of the first day Put the question To the new manifestation of life— Who are you? There was no answer.
Thou hast made me known to friends whom I knew not. Thou hast given me seats in homes not my own. Thou hast brought the distant near and made a brother of the stranger. I am uneasy at h...
Bless this little heart, this whit… heaven for our earth. He loves the light of the sun, he… mother’s face. He has not learned to despise the…
In desperate hope I go and search… My house is small and what once ha… But infinite is thy mansion, my lo… I stand under the golden canopy of… I have come to the brink of eterni…
If it is not my portion to meet th… then let me ever feel that I have… ——let me not forget for a moment, let me carry the pangs of this sor… and in my wakeful hours.
The boat of the boatman Madhu is… It is uselessly laden with jute, a… for ever so long. If he would only lend me his boat,… hundred oars, and hoist sails, fiv…
It is written in the book that Ma… noisy world, to go to the forest s… that the forest hermitage is only… birthplace of flowers and the haun… hooks are waiting there for the th…
The road is my wedded companion.… day, she sings to my dreams all ni… My meeting with her had no beginni… each daybreak, renewing its summer… her every new kiss is the first ki…
When I give up the helm I know that the time has come for… What there is to do will be instan… Vain is this struggle. Then take away your hands
Day after day he comes and goes aw… Go, and give him a flower from my… If he asks who was it that sent it… He sits on the dust under the tree… Spread there a seat with flowers a…
If thou speakest not I will fill… I will keep still and wait like th… and its head bent low with patienc… The morning will surely come, the… and thy voice pour down in golden…
Let only that little be left of me whereby I may name thee my all. Let only that little be left of my… whereby I may feel thee on every s… and come to thee in everything,