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 writhings of its victims. 159 When we rejoice in 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 firefly 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
Source: Internet Sacred Text Archive, file hin/tagore/strybrds.htm.
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