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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fruit-Gathering, by Rabindranath Tagore This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: Fruit-Gathering Author: Rabindranath Tagore Posting Date: March 6, 2009 [EBook #6522] Release Date: September, 2004 First Posted: December 25, 2002 Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRUIT-GATHERING *** Produced by Chetan K. Jain and Eric Eldred Original html version created at eldritchpress.org by Eric Eldred. This eBook was produced by Chetan K. Jain. Fruit-Gathering By Rabindranath Tagore [Translated from Bengali to English by the author] New York: The Macmillan Company, 1916 I Bid me and I shall gather my fruits to bring them in full baskets into your courtyard, though some are lost and some not ripe. For the season grows heavy with its fulness, and there is a plaintive shepherd's pipe in the shade. Bid me and I shall set sail on the river. The March wind is fretful, fretting the languid waves into murmurs. The garden has yielded its all, and in the weary hour of evening the call comes from your house on the shore in the sunset. II My life when young was like a flower--a flower that loosens a petal or two from her abundance and never feels the loss when the spring breeze comes to beg at her door. Now at the end of youth my life is like a fruit, having nothing to spare, and waiting to offer herself completely with her full burden of sweetness. III Is summer's festival only for fresh blossoms and not also for withered leaves and faded flowers? Is the song of the sea in tune only with the rising waves? Does it not also sing with the waves that fall? Jewels are woven into the carpet where stands my king, but there are patient clods waiting to be touched by his feet. Few are the wise and the great who sit by my Master, but he has taken the foolish in his arms and made me his servant for ever. IV I woke and found his letter with the morning. I do not know what it says, for I cannot read. I shall leave the wise man alone with his books, I shall not trouble him, for who knows if he can read what the letter says. Let me
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