"
"Here is the same sky," she said, "only free from the fencing
hills,--this is the same stream grown into a river,--the same
earth widened into a plain." "Everything is here," I sighed,
"only we are not." She smiled sadly and said, "You are in my
heart." I woke up and heard the babbling of the stream and the
rustling of the _deodars_ at night.
84
Over the green and yellow rice-fields sweep the shadows of the
autumn clouds followed by the swift chasing sun.
The bees forget to sip their honey; drunken with light they
foolishly hover and hum.
The ducks in the islands of the river clamour in joy for mere
nothing.
Let none go back home, brothers, this morning, let none go to
work.
Let us take the blue sky by storm and plunder space as we run.
Laughter floats in the air like foam on the flood.
Brothers, let us squander our morning in futile songs.
85
Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence?
I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the
spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the
vanished flowers of an hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang
one spring morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred
years.
INDEX OF FIRST WORDS
No.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57