316 Let me live truly, my Lord, so that death to me become true. 317 Man's history is waiting in patience for the triumph of the insulted man. 318 I feel thy gaze upon my heart this moment like the sunny silence of the morning upon the lonely field whose harvest is over. 319 I long for the Island of Songs across this heaving Sea of Shouts. 320 The prelude of the night is commenced in the music of the sunset, in its solemn hymn to the ineffable dark. 321 I have scaled the peak and found no shelter in fame's bleak and barren height. Lead me, my Guide, before the light fades, into the valley of quiet where life's harvest mellows into golden wisdom. 322 Things look phantastic in this dimness of the dusk--the spires whose bases are lost in the dark and tree tops like blots of ink. I shall wait for the morning and wake up to see thy city in the light. 323 I have suffered and despaired and known death and I am glad that I am in this great world. 324 There are tracts in my life that are bare and silent. They are the open spaces where my busy days had their light and air. 325 Release me from my unfulfilled past clinging to me from behind making death difficult. 326 Let this be my last word, that I trust in thy love.
Source: Internet Sacred Text Archive, file hin/tagore/strybrds.htm.
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