Gitanjali and Fruit-gathering . r price for the last lotus,—I shall offer it to Lord Buddha. Sudas said, If you pay one goldenmdshd it will be yours. The traveller paid it. At that moment the king came outand he wished to buy the flower, forhe was on his way to see Lord Buddha,and he thought, It would be a finething to lay at his feet the lotus thatbloomed in winter. When the gardener said he had been 122 FRUIT-GATHERING offered a golden mdslid the king offeredhim ten, but the traveller doubled theprice. The gardener, being greedy, imag-ined a greater gain from him for whosesake they were bidd
Gitanjali and Fruit-gathering . r price for the last lotus,—I shall offer it to Lord Buddha. Sudas said, If you pay one goldenmdshd it will be yours. The traveller paid it. At that moment the king came outand he wished to buy the flower, forhe was on his way to see Lord Buddha,and he thought, It would be a finething to lay at his feet the lotus thatbloomed in winter. When the gardener said he had been 122 FRUIT-GATHERING offered a golden mdslid the king offeredhim ten, but the traveller doubled theprice. The gardener, being greedy, imag-ined a greater gain from him for whosesake they were bidding. He bowedand said, *I cannot sell this lotus. In the hushed shade of the mangogrove beyond the city wall Sudas stoodbefore Lord Buddha, on whose lips satthe silence of love and whose eyesbeamed peace like the morning starof the dew-washed autumn. Sudas looked in his face and put thelotus at his feet and bowed his head tothe dust. Buddha smiled and asked, What isyour wish, my son?* Sudas cried, The least touch of Painted by Nandahil Bose TNIake me thy poet, O Night, Veiled Night FRUIT-GATHEHING 123 XX Make me thy poet, O Night, veiledNight! There are some who have sat speech-less for ages in thy shadow; let meutter their songs. Take me up on thy chariot withoutwheels, running noiselessly from worldto world, thou queen in the palace oftime, thou darkly beautiful! Many a questioning mind hasstealthily entered thy courtyard androamed through thy lampless houseseeking for answers. From many a heart, pierced withthe arrow of joy from the hands of theUnknown, have burst forth glad l>t FRUIT-GATHERING chants, slinking tlio darkness to itsfoundation. Those wakeful souls gaze in thestarlight, in womler at the treasure theyhave suddenly found. IN lake nie their poet, O Night, thepoet of thy fathomless silence. FllUIT-GATllEUING 1^25 XXI I WILL meet one day the Life withinnie, the joy that hides in my Hfe, thoughtlie days perplex my path with theiridle dust. I have know
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