Gitanjali and Fruit-gathering . it is who puts his enchantmentupon these eyes and joyfully plays onthe chords of my heart in varied ca-dence of pleasure and pain. He it is who weaves the web of thismaya in evanescent hues of gold andsilver, blue and green, and lets peep outthrough the folds his feet, at whosetouch I forget myself. Days come and ages pass, and it isever he who moves my heart in many a 68 GITANJALI name, in many a guise, in manyrapture of joy and of sorrow. 73 Deliverance is not for me in renuncia-tion. I feel the embrace of freedom ina thousand bonds of delight. Thou ever poure
Gitanjali and Fruit-gathering . it is who puts his enchantmentupon these eyes and joyfully plays onthe chords of my heart in varied ca-dence of pleasure and pain. He it is who weaves the web of thismaya in evanescent hues of gold andsilver, blue and green, and lets peep outthrough the folds his feet, at whosetouch I forget myself. Days come and ages pass, and it isever he who moves my heart in many a 68 GITANJALI name, in many a guise, in manyrapture of joy and of sorrow. 73 Deliverance is not for me in renuncia-tion. I feel the embrace of freedom ina thousand bonds of delight. Thou ever pourest for me the freshdraught of thy wine of various coloursand fragrance, filling this earthen vesselto the brim. My world will light its hundreddifferent lamps with thy flame andplace them before the altar of thytemple. No, I will never shut the doors ofmy senses. The delights of sight andhearing and touch will bear thy delight. Yes, all my illusions will burn intoillumination of joy, and all my desiresripen into fruits of Painted by Abanindranafh Togorc Deliverance is not for me in renunciation. GITANJALI 69 74 The day is no more, the sliadow is uponthe earth. It is time that I go to thestream to fill my pitcher. The evening air is eager with the sadmusic of the water. Ah, it calls me outinto the dusk. In the lonely lane thereis no passer by, the wind is up, theripples are rampant in the river. I know not if I shall come backhome. I know not whom I shallchance to meet. There at the fordingin the little boat the unknown manplays upon his lute. 75 Thy gifts to us mortals fulfil all ourneeds and yet run back to thee un-diminished. The river has its everj^day work todo and hastens throusrh fields and 70 GITANJALI hamlets; yet its incessant stream windstowards the washing of thy feet. The flower sweetens the air with itsperfume; yet its last service is to offeritself to thee. Thy worship does not impoverish theworld. From the words of the poet men takewhat meanings please the
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