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The original of this bool< is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924086980970 
 
In compliance with current 
 copyright law, Cornell University 
 
 Library produced this 
 replacement volume on paper 
 that meets the ANSI Standard 
 
 Z39.48-1 992 to replace the 
 irreparably deteriorated original. 
 
 2000 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 LIBRARY 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited 
 
 LONDON • BOMRAV • CALCUTTA • MADRA*; 
 MELBOURNE 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK - BOSTON • CHICAGO 
 DALLAS • SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 
 
 TORONTO 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 BY 
 
 Sir RABINDRANATH TAGORE 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED 
 
 ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON 
 
 1918 
 
COPYRIGHT 
 
 First Edition October 1916 
 Reprinted Noventber igi6, 19x8 
 
 -7 ^-^r- '.. 
 
 / ' ^-' - -•• , 
 
 J _ • 
 
 V 
 
 n 
 
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 shep- 
 herd'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. 
 
 IE B 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 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. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 III 
 
 Is summer's festival only for fresh 
 blossoms and not also for withered 
 leaves and faded flow^ers ? 
 
 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 
 fooHsh in his arms and made me his 
 servant for ever. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 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 hold it to my forehead and 
 press it to my heart. 
 
 When the night grows still and stars 
 come out one by one I will spread it 
 on my lap and stay silent. 
 
 The rustling leaves will read it aloud 
 to me, the rushing stream will chant it, 
 and the seven wise stars will sing it to 
 me from the sky. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 5 
 
 I cannot find what I seek, I cannot 
 understand what I would learn ; but 
 this unread letter has lightened my 
 burdens and turned my thoughts into 
 songs. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 A HANDFUL of dust could hide your 
 signal when I did not know its 
 meaning. 
 
 Now that I am wiser I read it in all 
 that hid it before. 
 
 It is painted hi petals of flowers ; 
 waves flash it from their foam ; hills 
 hold it high on their summits. 
 
 I had my face turned from you, 
 therefore I read the letters awry and 
 knew not their meaning. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 VI 
 
 Where roads are made I lose my 
 way. 
 
 In the wide water, in the blue sky 
 there is no line of a track. 
 
 The pathway is hidden by the birds' 
 wings, by the star-fires, by the flowers 
 of the wayfaring seasons. 
 
 And I ask my heart if its blood 
 carries the wisdom of the unseen way. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 VII 
 
 Alas, I cannot stay in the house, and 
 home has become no home to me, for 
 the eternal Stranger calls, he is going 
 along the road. 
 
 The sound of his footfall knocks at 
 my breast ; it pains me ! 
 
 The wind is up, the sea is moaning. 
 
 I leave all my cares and doubts to 
 follow the homeless tide, for the Stranger 
 calls me, he is going along the road. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 9 
 
 VIII 
 
 Be ready to launch forth, my heart 1 
 and let those linger who must. 
 
 For your name has been called in 
 the morning sky. 
 
 Wait for none ! 
 
 The desire of the bud is for the night 
 and dew, but the blown flower cries for 
 the freedom of light. 
 
 Burst your sheath, my heart, and 
 come forth 1 
 
10 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 IX 
 
 When I lingered among my hoarded 
 treasure I felt like a worm that feeds 
 in the dark upon the fruit where it 
 was born. 
 
 I leave this prison of decay. 
 
 I care not to haunt the mouldy still- 
 ness, for I go in search of everlasting 
 youth ; I throw away all that is not 
 one with my life nor as Ught as my 
 laughter. 
 
 I run through time and, O my 
 heart, in your chariot dances the poet 
 who sings while he wanders. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 11 
 
 X 
 
 You took my hand and drew me to 
 your side, made me sit on the high seat 
 before all men, till I became timid, 
 unable to stir and walk my own way ; 
 doubting and debating at every step lest 
 I should tread upon any thorn of their 
 disfavour. 
 
 I am freed at last ! 
 
 The blow has come, the drum of 
 insult sounded, my seat is laid low in 
 the dust. 
 
 My paths are open before me. 
 
 My wings are fuU of the desire of 
 the sky. 
 
 I go to join the shooting stars of 
 midnight, to plunge into the profound 
 shadow. 
 
 1 am like the storm-driven cloud of 
 
12 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 summer that, having cast off its crown 
 of gold, hangs as a sword the thunder- 
 bolt upon a chain of lightning. 
 
 In desperate joy I run upon the 
 dusty path of the despised ; I di-aw 
 near to your final welcome. 
 
 The child finds its mother when it 
 leaves her womb. 
 
 When I am parted from you, thrown 
 out from your household, I am free to 
 see your face. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 13 
 
 XI 
 
 It decks me only to mock me, this 
 jewelled chain of mine. 
 
 It bruises me when on my neck, it 
 strangles me when I struggle to tear 
 it ofF. 
 
 It grips my throat, it chokes my 
 singing. 
 
 Could I but offer it to your hand, 
 my Lord, I would be saved. 
 
 Take it from me, and in exchange 
 bind me to you with a garland, for I 
 am ashamed to stand before you with 
 this jewelled chain on my neck. 
 
14 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XII 
 
 Far below flowed the Jumna, swift 
 and clear, above frowned the jutting 
 bank. 
 
 HUls dark with the woods and 
 scarred with the torrents were gathered 
 around. 
 
 Govinda, the great Sikh teacher, 
 sat on the rock reading scriptures, 
 when Raghunath, his disciple, proud 
 of his wealth, came and bowed to him 
 and said, " I have brought my poor 
 present unworthy of your acceptance." 
 
 Thus sa}Tng he displayed before the 
 teacher a pair of gold bangles Avrought 
 with costly stones. 
 
 The master took up one of them, 
 twirling it round his finger, and the 
 diamonds darted shafts of light. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 15 
 
 Suddenly it slipped from his hand 
 and rolled down the bank into the 
 water. 
 
 " Alas," screamed Raghunath. and 
 jumped into the stream. 
 
 The teacher set his eyes upon his 
 book, and the water held and hid what 
 it stole and went its way. 
 
 The daylight faded when Raghunath 
 came back to the teacher tired and 
 dripping. 
 
 He panted and said, " I can still 
 get it back if you show me where it 
 fell." 
 
 The teacher took up the remaining 
 bangle and throwing it into the water 
 said, " It is there." 
 
16 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XIII 
 
 To move is to meet you every moment, 
 Fellow-traveller ! 
 
 It is to sing to the falling of your 
 feet. 
 
 He whom your breath touches does 
 not glide by the shelter of the bank. 
 
 He spreads a reckless sail to the 
 wind and rides the turbulent water. 
 
 He who throws his doors open and 
 steps onward receives your greeting. 
 
 He does not stay to count his gain 
 or to mourn his loss ; his heart beats 
 the drum for his march, for that is 
 to march with you every step, 
 
 Fellow-traveller 1 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 17 
 
 XIV 
 
 My portion of the best in this world 
 will come from your hands : such was 
 your promise. 
 
 Therefore your light glistens in my 
 tears. 
 
 I fear to be led by others lest I miss 
 you waiting in some road corner to 
 be my guide. 
 
 I walk my own wilful way till my 
 very foUy tempts you to my door. 
 
 For I have your promise that my 
 portion of the best in this world will 
 come from your hands. 
 
18 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XV 
 
 Your speech is simple, my Master, 
 but not theirs who talk of you. 
 
 I understand the voice of your stars 
 and the silence of your trees. 
 
 I know that my heart would open 
 like a flower; that my life has filled 
 itself at a hidden fountain. 
 
 Your songs, like birds from the 
 lonely land of snow, are winging to 
 build their nests in my heart against 
 the warmth of its April, and I am 
 content to wait for the merry season. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 19 
 
 XVI 
 
 They knew the way and went to seek 
 you along the narrow lane, but I 
 wandered abroad into the night for I 
 was ignorant. 
 
 I was not schooled enough to be 
 afraid of you in the dark, therefore 
 I came upon your doorstep unaware. 
 
 The wise rebuked me and bade me 
 be gone, for I had not come by the 
 lane. 
 
 I turned away in doubt, but you 
 held me fast, and their scolding became 
 louder every day. 
 
20 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XVII 
 
 I BROUGHT out my earthen lamp 
 from my house and cried, " Come, 
 children, I will light your path ! " 
 
 The night was still dark when I 
 returned, leaving the road to its silence, 
 crying, " Light me, O Fire ! for my 
 earthen lamp lies broken in the dust 1 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 21 
 
 XVIII 
 
 No : it is not yours to open buds into 
 blossoms. 
 
 Shake the bud, strike it ; it is beyond 
 your power to make it blossom. 
 
 Your touch soils it, you tear its 
 petals to pieces and strew them in the 
 dust. 
 
 But no colours appear, and no 
 perfume. 
 
 Ah ! it is not for you to open the 
 bud into a blossom. 
 
 He who can open the bud does it so 
 simply. 
 
 He gives it a glance, and the Ufe-sap 
 stirs through its veins. 
 
 At his breath the flower spreads its 
 wings and flutters in the wind. 
 
22 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 Colours flush out like heart-longings, 
 the perfume betrays a sweet secret. 
 
 He who can open the bud does it so 
 simply. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 23 
 
 XIX 
 
 SuDAS, the gardener, plucked "from 
 his tank the last lotus left by the ravage 
 of winter and went to sell it to the king 
 at the palace gate. 
 
 There he met a traveller who said to 
 him, "Ask your price for the last lotus, 
 — I shall offer it to Lord Buddha," 
 
 Sudas said, " If you pay one golden 
 masha it will be yours." 
 
 The traveller paid it. 
 
 At that moment the king came out 
 and he wished to buy the flower, for 
 he was on his way to see Lord Buddha, 
 and he thought, "It would be a fine 
 thing . to lay at his feet the lotus that 
 bloomed in winter." 
 
 When the gardener said he had been 
 offered a golden masha the king offered 
 
24 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 him ten, but the traveller doubled the 
 price. 
 
 The gardener, being greedy, imagined 
 a greater gain from him for whose sake 
 they were bidding. He bowed and 
 said, " I cannot sell this lotus." 
 
 In the hushed shade of the mango 
 grove beyond the city wall Sudas stood 
 before Lord Buddha, on whose lips sat 
 the silence of love and whose eyes 
 beamed peace like the morning star of 
 the dew-washed autumn. 
 
 Sudas looked in his face and put the 
 lotus at his feet and bowed his head to 
 the dust. 
 
 Buddha smiled and asked, " What is 
 your wish, my son ? " 
 
 SudSs- cried, "The least touch of 
 your feet." 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 25 
 
 XX 
 
 Make me thy poet, O Night, veiled 
 Night ! 
 
 There are some who have sat speech- 
 less for ages in thy shadow ; let me 
 utter their songs. 
 
 Take me up on thy chariot without 
 wheels, running noiselessly from world 
 to world, thou queen in the palace of 
 time, thou darkly beautiful ! 
 
 Many a questioning mind has 
 stealthily entered thy courtyard and 
 roamed through thy lampless house 
 seeking for answers. 
 
 From many a heart, pierced with 
 the arrow of joy from the hands of the 
 Unknown, have burst forth glad chants, 
 shaking the darkness to its foundation. 
 
26 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 Those wakeful souls gaze in the 
 starlight in wonder at the treasure they 
 have suddenly found. 
 
 Make me their poet, O Night, the 
 poet of thy fathomless silence. 
 
* 
 
 FRUIT-GATHERING 27 
 
 XXI 
 
 I WILL meet one day the Life within 
 me, the joy that hides in my life, though 
 the days perplex my path with their idle 
 dust. 
 
 I have known it in glimpses, and its 
 fitful breath has come upon me making 
 my thoughts fragrant for a while. 
 
 I will meet one day the Joy without 
 me that dwells behind the screen of 
 light — and will stand in the overflowing 
 solitude where all things are seen as by 
 their creator. 
 
28 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XXII 
 
 This autumn morning is tired with 
 excess of light, and if your songs grow 
 fitful and languid give me your flute 
 awhile. 
 
 I shall but play with it as the whim 
 takes me, — now take it on my lap, now 
 touch it with my lips, now keep it by 
 my side on the grass. 
 
 But in the solemn evening stillness 
 I shall gather flowers, to deck it with 
 wreaths, I shall fill it with fragrance ; I 
 shall worship it with the Ughted lamp. 
 
 Then at night I shall come to you 
 and give you back your flute. 
 
 You will play on it the music of mid- 
 night when the lonely crescent moon 
 wanders among the stars. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 29 
 
 XXIII 
 
 The poet's mind floats and dances on 
 the waves of life amidst the voices of 
 wind and water. 
 
 Now when the sun has set and the 
 darkened sky draws down upon the sea 
 hke drooping lashes upon a weary eye 
 it is time to take away his pen, and 
 let his thoughts sink into the bottom 
 of the deep amid the eternal secret of 
 that silence. 
 
30 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XXIV 
 
 .The night is dark and your slumber 
 is deep in the hush of my being. 
 
 Wake, O Pain of Love, for I know 
 not how to open the door, and I stand 
 outside. 
 
 The hours wait, the stars watch, the 
 wind is still, the silence is heavy in my 
 heart. 
 
 Wake, Love, wake ! brim my empty 
 cup, and with a breath of song ruffle the 
 night. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 31 
 
 XXV 
 
 The bird of the morning sings. 
 
 Whence has he word of the morning 
 before the morning breaks, and when 
 the dragon night still holds the sky in 
 its cold black coils ? 
 
 Tell me, bird of the morning, how, 
 through the twofold night of the sky and 
 the leaves, he found his way into your 
 dream, the messenger out of the east ? 
 
 The world did not believe you when 
 you cried, " The sun is on his way, the 
 night is no more." 
 
 O sleeper, awake ! 
 
 Bare your forehead, waiting for the 
 first blessing of light, and sing with the 
 bird of the morning in glad faith. 
 
32 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XXVI 
 
 The beggar in me lifted his lean 
 hands to the starless sky and cried into 
 night's ear with his hungry voice. 
 
 His prayers were to the blind Dark- 
 ness who lay like a fallen god in a 
 desolate heaven of lost hopes. 
 
 The cry of desire eddied round a 
 chasm of despair, a wailing bird circling 
 its empty nest. 
 
 But when morning dropped anchor 
 at the rim of the East, the beggar in 
 me leapt and cried : 
 
 " Blessed am I that the deaf night 
 denied me — that its coflPer was empty." 
 
 He cried, " O Life, O Light, you are 
 precious ! and precious is the joy that 
 at last has known you 1 " 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 33 
 
 XXVII 
 
 Sanatan was telling his beads by the 
 Ganges when a Brahmin in rags came 
 to him and said, " Help me, I am 
 poor ! " 
 
 " My alms-bowl is all that is my 
 own," said Sanatan, "I have given away 
 everything 1 had." 
 
 " But my lord Shiva came to me in 
 my dreams," said the Brahmin, "and 
 counselled me to come to you." 
 
 Sanatan suddenly remembered he 
 had picked up a stone without price 
 among the pebbles on the river-bank, 
 and thinking that some one might need 
 it hid it in the sands. 
 
 He pointed out the spot to the 
 Brahmin, who wondering dug up the 
 stone. 
 
 The Brahmin sat on the earth and 
 
 D 
 
34 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 mused alone till the sun went down 
 behind the trees, and cowherds went 
 home with their cattle. 
 
 Then he rose and came slowly to 
 Sanatan and said, " Master, give me 
 the least fraction of the wealth that 
 disdains all the wealth of the world." 
 
 And he threw the precious stone 
 into the water. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 35 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 Time after time I came to your gate 
 with raised hands, asking for more and 
 yet more. 
 
 You gave and gave, now in slow 
 measure, now in sudden excess. 
 
 I took some, and some things I let 
 drop ; some lay heavy on my hands ; 
 some I made into playthings and broke 
 them when tired ; till the wrecks and 
 the hoard of your gifts grew immense, 
 hiding you, and the ceaseless expecta- 
 tion wore my heart out. 
 
 Take, oh take — has now become my 
 cry. 
 
 Shatter all from this beggar's bowl : 
 put out this lamp of the importunate 
 watcher : hold my hands, raise me from 
 the still -gathering heap of your gifts 
 into the bare infinity of your uncrowded 
 presence. 
 
36 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XXIX 
 
 You have set me among those who are 
 defeated. 
 
 1 know it is not for me to win, nor 
 to leave the game. 
 
 I shall plunge into the pool although 
 but to sink to the bottom. 
 
 I shall play the game of my undoing. 
 
 I shall stake all I have and when I 
 lose my last penny I shall stake myself, 
 and then I think I shall have won 
 through my utter defeat. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 37 
 
 XXX 
 
 A SMILE of mirth spread over the sky 
 when you dressed my heart in rags and 
 sent her forth into the road to beg. 
 
 She went from door to door, and 
 many a time when her bowl was nearly 
 full she was robbed. 
 
 At the end of the weary day she 
 came to your palace gate holding up 
 her pitiful bowl, and you came and 
 took her hand and seated her beside 
 you on your throne. 
 
38 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XXXI 
 
 " Who among you will take up the 
 duty of feeding the hungry?" Lord 
 Buddha asked his followers when 
 famine raged at Shravasti. 
 
 Ratnakar, the banker, hung his head 
 and said, " Much more is needed than 
 all my wealth to feed the hungry." 
 
 Jaysen, the chief of the King's army, 
 said, " I would gladly give my life's 
 blood, but there is not enough food in 
 my house." 
 
 Dharmapal, who owned broad acres 
 of land, said with a sigh, " The drought 
 demon has sucked my fields dry. I 
 know not how to pay King's dues." 
 
 Then rose Supriya, the mendicant's 
 daughter. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 39 
 
 She bowed to all and meekly said, 
 " I will feed the hungry." 
 
 " How ! " they cried in surprise. 
 " How can you hope to fulfil that 
 ,^„ . 
 
 " I am the poorest of you all," said 
 Supriya, " that is my strength. I have 
 my coflFer and my store at each of 
 your houses." 
 
40 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XXXII 
 
 My king was unknown to me, there- 
 fore when he claimed his tribute I was 
 bold to think I would hide myself 
 leaving my debts unpaid. 
 
 I fled and fled behind my day's work 
 and my night's dreams. 
 
 But his claims followed me at every 
 breath I drew. 
 
 Thus I came to know that I am 
 known to him and no place left which 
 is mine. 
 
 Now I wish to lay my all before his 
 feet, and gain the right to my place in 
 his kingdom. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 41 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 When I thought I would mould 
 you, an image from my life for men 
 to worship, I brought my dust and 
 desires and all my coloured delusions 
 and dreams. 
 
 When 1 asked you to mould with 
 my life an image from your heart for 
 you to love, you brought your fire and 
 force, and truth, loveliness and peace. 
 
42 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 " Sire," announced the servant to the 
 King, "the saint Narottam has never 
 deigned to enter your royal temple. 
 
 " He is singing God's praise under the 
 trees by the open road. The temple is 
 empty of worshippers. 
 
 " They flock roimd him like bees 
 round the white lotus, leaving the 
 golden jar of honey unheeded." 
 
 The King, vexed at heart, went to 
 the spot where Narottam sat on the 
 grass. 
 
 He asked him, "Father, why leave 
 my temple of the golden dome and sit 
 on the dust outside to preach God's 
 love ? " 
 
 " Because God is not there in your 
 temple," said Narottam. 
 
 The King frowned and said, " Do 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 43 
 
 you know, twenty millions of gold 
 went to the making of that marvel of 
 art, and it was consecrated to God with 
 costly rites ? " 
 
 " Yes, I know it," answered Narot- 
 tam. " It was in that year when 
 thousands of your people whose houses 
 had been burned stood vainly asking 
 for help at your door. 
 
 " And God said, * The poor creature 
 who can give no shelter to his brothers 
 would build my house ! ' 
 
 "And he took his place with the 
 shelterless under the trees by the road. 
 
 "And that golden bubble is empty 
 of all but hot vapour of pride." 
 
 The King cried in anger, " Leave 
 my land," 
 
 Calmly said the saint, " Yes, banish 
 me where you have banished my God." 
 
44 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XXXV 
 
 The trumpet lies in the dust. 
 
 The wind is weary, the light is dead. 
 
 Ah the evil day ! 
 
 Come, fighters, carrying your flags, 
 and singers, with your war-songs ! 
 
 Come, pilgrims of the march, hurry- 
 ing on your journey ! 
 
 The trumpet lies in the dust waiting 
 for us. 
 
 I was on my way to the temple with 
 my evening offerings, seeking for a place 
 of rest after the day's dusty toil : hoping 
 my hurts would be healed and the 
 stains in my garment washed white, 
 when I found thy trumpet lying in the 
 dust. 
 
 Was it not the hour for me to light 
 my evening lamp ? 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 45 
 
 Had not the night sung its lullaby 
 to the stars ? 
 
 thou blood-red rose, my poppies 
 of sleep have paled and faded ! 
 
 1 was certain my wanderings were 
 over and my debts all paid when 
 suddenly I came upon thy trumpet 
 lying in the dust. 
 
 Strike my drowsy heart with thy 
 spell of youth ! 
 
 Let my joy in life blaze up in fire. 
 
 Let the shafts of awakening fly 
 through the heart of night, and a thrill 
 of dread shake blindness and palsy. 
 
 I have come to raise thy trumpet 
 from the dust. 
 
 Sleep is no more for me — my walk 
 shall be through showers of arrows. 
 
 Some shall run out of their houses 
 and come to my side — some shall weep. 
 
 Some in their beds shall toss and 
 groan in dire dreams. 
 
46 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 For to-night thy trumpet shall be 
 sounded. 
 
 From thee I have asked peace only 
 to find shame. 
 
 Now I stand before thee — help me 
 to put on my armour ! 
 
 Let hard blows of trouble strike fire 
 into my life. 
 
 Let my heart beat in pain, the drum 
 of thy victory. 
 
 My hands shall be utterly emptied 
 to take up thy trumpet. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 47 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 When, mad in their mirth, they 
 raised dust to soil thy robe, O Beauti- 
 ful, it made my heart sick. 
 
 1 cried to thee and said, " Take thy 
 rod of punishment and judge them." 
 
 The morning light struck upon those 
 eyes, red with the revel of night ; the 
 place of the white lily greeted their 
 burning breath ; the stars through the 
 depth of the sacred dark stared at their 
 carousing — at those that raised dust to 
 soil thy robe, O Beautiful ! 
 
 Thy judgment seat was in the flower 
 garden, in the birds' notes in springtime: 
 in the shady river -banks, where the 
 trees muttered in answer to the mutter- 
 ing of the waves. 
 
 O my Lover, they were pitiless in 
 their passion. 
 
48 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 They prowled in the dark to snatch 
 thy ornaments to deck their own 
 desires. 
 
 When they had struck thee and 
 thou wert pained, it pierced me to the 
 quick, and I cried to thee and said, 
 "Take thy sword, O my Lover, and 
 judge them ! 
 
 Ah, but thy justice was vigilant. 
 
 A mother s tears were shed on their 
 insolence ; the imperishable faith of a 
 lover hid their spears of rebellion in its 
 own wounds. 
 
 Thy judgment was in the mute pain 
 of sleepless love: in the blush of the 
 chaste : in the tears of the night of the 
 desolate : in the pale morning-light of 
 forgiveness. 
 
 O Terrible, they in their reckless 
 greed climbed thy gate at night, break- 
 ing into thy storehouse to rob thee. 
 
 But the weight of their plunder grew 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 49 
 
 immense, too heavy to carry or to 
 remove. 
 
 Thereupon I cried to thee and 
 said. Forgive them, O Terrible ! 
 
 Thy forgiveness burst in storms, 
 throwing them down, scattering their 
 thefts in the dust. 
 
 Thy forgiveness was in the thunder- 
 stone ; in the shower of blood ; in the 
 angry red of the sunset. 
 
 E 
 
50 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 Upagupta, the disciple of Buddha, 
 lay asleep on the dust by the city wall 
 of Mathura. 
 
 Lamps were all out, doors were all 
 shut, and stars were all hidden by the 
 murky sky of August. 
 
 Whose feet were those tinkling with 
 anklets, touching his breast of a 
 sudden ? 
 
 He woke up startled, and the light 
 from a woman's lamp struck his for- 
 giving eyes. 
 
 It was the dancing girl, starred with 
 jewels, clouded with a pale-blue mantle, 
 drunk with the wine of her youth. 
 
 She lowered her lamp and saw the 
 young face, austerely beautiful. 
 
 " Forgive me, young ascetic," said 
 the woman ; " graciously come to my 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 51 
 
 house. The dusty earth is not a fit bed 
 for you." 
 
 The ascetic answered, " Woman, go 
 on your way ; when the time is ripe I 
 will come to you." 
 
 Suddenly the black night showed its 
 teeth in a flash of lightning. 
 
 The storm growled from the corner 
 of the sky, and the woman trembled in 
 fear. 
 
 The branches of the wayside trees 
 were aching with blossom. 
 
 Gay notes of the flute came floating 
 in the warm spring air from afar. 
 
 The citizens had gone to the woods, 
 to the festival of flowers. 
 
 From the mid-sky gazed the full 
 moon on the shadows of the silent 
 town. 
 
 The young ascetic was walking in 
 
52 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 the lonely street, while overhead the 
 lovesick koels urged from the mango 
 branches their sleepless plaint. 
 
 Upagupta passed through the city 
 gates, and stood at the base of the 
 rampart. 
 
 What woman lay in the shadow of 
 the wall at his feet, struck with the 
 black pestilence, her body spotted with 
 sores, hurriedly driven away from the 
 town ? 
 
 The ascetic sat by her side, taking 
 her head on his knees, and moistened 
 her lips with water and smeared her 
 body with balm. 
 
 " Who are you, merciful one ? " asked 
 the woman. 
 
 " The time, at last, has come to visit 
 you, and I am here," replied the young 
 ascetic. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 53 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 This is no mere dallying of love be- 
 tween us, my lover. ; ' 
 
 Again and again have swooped down 
 upon me the screaming nights of storm, 
 blowing out my lamp : dark doubts 
 have gathered, blotting out all stars from 
 my sky. 
 
 Again and again the banks have 
 burst, letting the flood sweep away my 
 harvest, and wailing and despair have 
 rent my sky from end to end. 
 
 This have I learnt that there are 
 blows of pain in your love, never the 
 cold apathy of death. 
 
54 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 The wall breaks asunder, light, like 
 divine laughter, bursts in. 
 
 Victory, O Light ! 
 
 The heart of the night is pierced ! 
 
 With your flashing sword cut in 
 twain the tangle of doubt and feeble 
 desires ! 
 
 Victory ! 
 
 Come, Implacable ! 
 
 Come, you who are terrible in your 
 whiteness. 
 
 O Light, your drum sounds in the 
 march of fire, and the red torch is 
 held on high ; death dies in a burst of 
 splendour ! 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 55 
 
 XL 
 
 O FIRE, my brother, I sing victory to 
 you. 
 
 You are the bright red image of 
 fearful freedom. 
 
 You swing your arms in the sky, 
 you sweep your impetuous fingers across 
 the harp -string, your dance music is 
 beautiful. 
 
 When my days are ended and the 
 gates are opened you will burn to ashes 
 this cordage of hands and feet. 
 
 My body will be one with you, my 
 heart wiU be caught in the whirls of 
 your frenzy, and the burning heat that 
 was my life will flash up and mingle 
 itself in your flame. 
 
56 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XLI 
 
 The Boatman is out crossing the wild 
 sea at night. 
 
 The mast is aching because of its full 
 sails filled with the violent wind. 
 
 Stung with the night's fang the sky 
 falls upon the sea, poisoned with black 
 fear. 
 
 The waves dash their heads against 
 the dark unseen, and the Boatman is out 
 crossing the wild sea. 
 
 The Boatman is out, I know not for 
 what tryst, startling the night with the 
 sudden white of his sails. 
 
 I know not at what shore, at last, he 
 lands to reach the silent courtyard 
 where the lamp is burning and to find 
 her who sits in the dust and waits. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 57 
 
 What is the quest that makes his 
 boat care not for storm nor dark- 
 ness ? 
 
 Is it heavy with gems and pearls ? 
 
 Ah, no, the Boatman brings with 
 him no treasure, but only a white rose 
 in his hand and a song on his lips. 
 
 It is for her who watches alone at 
 night with her lamp burning. 
 
 She dwells in the wayside hut. 
 
 Her loose hair flies in the wind and 
 hides her eyes. 
 
 The storm shrieks through her 
 broken doors, the light flickers in her 
 earthen lamp flinging shadows on the 
 walls. 
 
 Through the howl of the winds she 
 hears him call her name, she whose 
 name is unknown. 
 
 It is long since the Boatman sailed. 
 
 It will be long before the day breaks 
 and he knocks at the door. 
 
58 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 The drums will not be beaten and 
 none will know. 
 
 Only light shall fill the house, blessed 
 shall be the dust, and the heart glad. 
 
 All doubts shall vanish in silence 
 when the Boatman comes to the shore. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 59 
 
 XLII 
 
 I CLING to this living raft, my body, 
 in the narrow stream of my earthly 
 years. I leave it when the crossing 
 is over. 
 
 And then ? 
 
 I do not know if the light there 
 and the darkness are the same. 
 
 The Unknown is the perpetual 
 freedom : 
 
 He is pitiless in his love. 
 
 He crushes the shell for the pearl, 
 dumb in the prison of the dark. 
 
 You muse and weep for the days 
 that are done, poor heart I 
 
 Be glad that days are to come ! 
 
 The hour strikes, O pilgrim ! 
 
 It is time for you to take the 
 parting of the ways ! 
 
 His face wiU be unveiled once again 
 and you shall meet. 
 
60 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XLIII 
 
 Over the relic of Lord Buddha 
 King Bimbisar built a shrine, a saluta- 
 tion in white marble. 
 
 There in the evening would come 
 all the brides and daughters of the 
 King's house to offer flowers and light 
 lamps. 
 
 When the son became king in his 
 time he washed his father's creed 
 away with blood, and lit sacrificial 
 fires with its sacred books. 
 
 The autumn day was dying. 
 
 The evening hour of worship was 
 near. 
 
 Shrimati, the queen's maid, devoted 
 to Lord Buddha, having bathed in holy 
 water, and decked the golden tray with 
 lamps and fresh white blossoms, silently 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 61 
 
 raised her dark eyes to the queen's 
 face. 
 
 The queen shuddered in fear and 
 said, " Do you not know, foolish girl, 
 that death is' the penalty for whoever 
 brings worship to Buddha's shrine ? 
 
 " Such is the king's will." 
 
 Shrimati bowed to the queen, and 
 turning away from her door came and 
 stood before Amita, the newly wed 
 bride of the king's son. 
 
 A mirror of burnished gold on her 
 lap, the newly wed bride was braiding 
 her dark long tresses and painting the 
 red spot of good luck at the parting of 
 her hair. 
 
 Her hands trembled when she saw 
 the young maid, and she cried, " What 
 fearful peril would you bring me ! 
 Leave me this instant." 
 
 Princess Shukla sat at the window 
 
62 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 reading her book of romance by the 
 light of the setting sun. 
 
 She started when she saw at her 
 door the maid with the sacred offerings. 
 
 Her book fell down from her lap, 
 and she whispered in Shrimati's ears, 
 " Rush not to death, daring woman ! " 
 
 Shrimati walked from door to door. 
 
 She raised her head and cried, "O 
 women of the king's house, hasten ! 
 
 "The time for our Lord's worship 
 is come ! " 
 
 Some shut their doors in her face 
 and some reviled her. 
 
 The last gleam of daylight faded 
 from the bronze dome of the palace 
 tower. 
 
 Deep shadows settled in street 
 corners : the bustle of the city was 
 hushed : the gong at the temple of 
 Shiva announced the time of the 
 evening prayer. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 63 
 
 In the dark of the autumn evening, 
 deep as a limpid lake, stars throbbed 
 with light, when the guards of the 
 palace garden were startled to see 
 through the trees a row of lamps 
 burning at the shrine of Buddha. 
 
 They ran with their swords un- 
 sheathed, crying, " Who are you, 
 foolish one, reckless of death ? " 
 
 "I am Shrimati," replied a sweet 
 voice, " the servant of Lord Buddha." 
 
 The next moment her heart's blood 
 coloured the cold marble with its red. 
 
 And in the still hour of stars died 
 the light of the last lamp of worship at 
 the foot of the shrine. 
 
64 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XLIV 
 
 The day that stands between you and 
 me makes her last bow of farewell. 
 
 The night draws her veil over her 
 face, and hides the one lamp burning in 
 my chamber. 
 
 Your dark servant comes noiselessly 
 and spreads the bridal carpet for you 
 to take your seat there alone with me 
 in the wordless silence till night is 
 done. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 65 
 
 XLV 
 
 My night has passed on the bed of 
 sorrow, and my eyes are tired. My 
 heavy heart is not yet ready to meet 
 morning with its crowded joys. 
 
 Draw a veil over this naked light, 
 beckon aside from me this glaring flash 
 and dance of life. 
 
 Let thy mantle of tender darkness 
 cover me in its folds, and cover my 
 pain awhile from the pressure of the 
 world. 
 
66 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XLVI 
 
 The time is past when 1 could repay 
 her for all that I received. 
 
 Her night has found its morning and 
 thou hast taken her to thy arms : and 
 to thee I bring my gratitude and my 
 gifts that were for her. 
 
 For all hurts and offences to her I 
 come to thee for forgiveness. 
 
 I offer to thy service those flowers 
 of my love that remained in bud when 
 she waited for them to open. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 67 
 
 XLVTI 
 
 I FOUND a few old letters of mine 
 carefully hidden in her box — a few small 
 toys for her memory to play with. 
 
 With a timorous heart she tried to 
 steal these trifles from time's turbulent 
 stream, and said, "These are mine 
 only!" 
 
 Ah, there is no one now to claim 
 them, who can pay their price with 
 loving care, yet here they are still. 
 
 Surely there is love in this world to 
 save her from utter loss, even like this 
 love of hers that saved these letters 
 with such fond care. 
 
68 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 XL VIII 
 
 Bring beauty and order into my 
 forlorn life, woman, as you brought 
 them into my house when you lived. 
 
 Sweep away the dusty fragments of 
 the hours, fill the empty jars, and mend 
 all that has been neglected. 
 
 Then open the inner door of the 
 shrine, light the candle, and let us meet 
 there in silence before our God. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 69 
 
 XLIX 
 
 The pain was great when the strings 
 were being tuned, my Master ! 
 
 Begin your music, and let me forget 
 the pain ; let me feel in beauty what 
 you had in your mind through those 
 pitiless days. 
 
 The waning night lingers at my 
 doors, let her take her leave in songs. 
 
 Pour your heart into my life strings, 
 my Master, in tunes that descend from 
 your stars. 
 
70 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 In the lightning flash of a moment 
 I have seen the immensity of your 
 creation in my life — creation through 
 many a death from world to world, 
 
 I weep at my unworthiness when I 
 see my life in the hands of the unmean- 
 ing hours, — but when I see it in your 
 hands I know it is too precious to be 
 squandered among shadows. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 71 
 
 LI 
 
 I KNOW that at the dim end of some 
 day the sun will bid me its last farewell. 
 
 Shepherds will play their pipes 
 beneath the banyan trees, and cattle 
 graze on the slope by the river, while 
 my days wiU pass into the dark. 
 
 This is my prayer, that I may know 
 before I leave why the earth called me 
 to her arms. 
 
 Why her night's silence spoke to me 
 of stars, and her daylight kissed my 
 thoughts into flower. 
 
 Before I go may I linger over my 
 last refrain, completing its music, may 
 the lamp be lit to see your face and the 
 wreath woven to crown you. 
 
72 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LIl 
 
 What music is that in whose measure 
 the world is rocked ? 
 
 We laugh when it beats upon the 
 crest of life, we shrink in terror when 
 it returns into the dark. 
 
 But the play is the same that comes 
 and goes with the rhythm of the end- 
 less music. 
 
 You hide your treasure in the palm 
 of your hand, and we cry that we are 
 robbed. 
 
 But open and shut your palm as you 
 will, the gain and the loss are the same. 
 
 At the game you play with your 
 own self you lose and win at once. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 73 
 
 LIU 
 
 I HAVE kissed this world with my 
 eyes and my limbs; I have wrapt it 
 within my heart in numberless folds ; 
 I have flooded its days and nights 
 with thoughts till the world and my 
 life have grown one, — and I love my 
 life because I love the light of the sky 
 so enwoven with me. 
 
 If to leave this world be as real as 
 to love it — then there must be a mean- 
 ing in the meeting and the parting of 
 life. 
 
 If that love were deceived in death, 
 then the canker of this deceit would 
 eat into all things, and the stars would 
 shrivel and grow black. 
 
74 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LIV 
 
 The Cloud said to me, " I vanish " ; 
 the Night said, " I plunge into the 
 fiery dawn." 
 
 The Pain said, " I remain in deep 
 silence as his footprint." 
 
 " I die into the fulness," said my life 
 to me. 
 
 The Earth said, " My lights kiss your 
 thoughts every moment." 
 
 " The days pass," Love said, " but I 
 wait for you." 
 
 Death said, " I ply the boat of your 
 life across the sea." 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 75 
 
 LV 
 
 TuLsiDAS, the poet, was wandering, 
 deep in thought, by the Ganges, in that 
 lonely spot where they burn their dead. 
 
 He found a woman sitting at the 
 feet of the corpse of her dead husband, 
 gaily dressed as for a wedding. 
 
 She rose as she saw him, bowed to 
 him, and said, " Permit me. Master, with 
 your blessing, to follow my husband to 
 heaven." 
 
 "Why such hurry, my daughter?" 
 asked Tulsidas. " Is not this earth also 
 His who made heaven ? " 
 
 " For heaven I do not long," said 
 the woman. " I want my husband." 
 
 Tulsidas smiled and said to her, "Go 
 back to your home, my child. Before 
 the month is over you will find your 
 husband." 
 
76 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 The woman went back with glad 
 hope. Tulsidas came to her every day 
 and gave her high thoughts to think, 
 till her heart was filled to the brim 
 vdth divine love. 
 
 When the month was scarcely over, 
 her neighbours came to her, asking, 
 " Woman, have you found your 
 husband ? " 
 
 The widow smiled and said, "I have." 
 Eagerly they asked, " Where is he ? " 
 " In my heart is my lord, one with 
 me," said the woman. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 77 
 
 LVI 
 
 You came for a moment to my side 
 and touched me with the great mystery 
 of the woman that there is in the heart 
 of creation. 
 
 She who is ever returning to God 
 his own outflowing of sweetness ; she is 
 the ever fresh beauty and youth in 
 nature ; she dances in the bubbhng 
 streams and sings in the morning hght ; 
 she with heaving waves suckles the 
 thirsty earth ; in her the Eternal One 
 breaks in two in a joy that no longer 
 may contain itself, and overflows in the 
 pain of love. 
 
78 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LVII 
 
 Who is she who dwells in my heart, 
 the woman forlorn for ever ? 
 
 I wooed her and I failed to win her. 
 
 I decked her with wreaths and sang 
 in her praise. 
 
 A smile shone in her face for a 
 moment, then it faded. 
 
 " I have no joy in thee," she cried, 
 the woman in sorrow. 
 
 I bought her jewelled anklets and 
 fanned her with a fan gem-studded ; I 
 made her a bed on a bedstead of gold. 
 
 There flickered a gleam of gladness 
 in her eyes, then it died. 
 
 " I have no joy in these," she cried, 
 the woman in sorrow. 
 
 I seated her upon a car of triumph 
 and drove her from end to end of the 
 earth. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 79 
 
 Conquered hearts bowed down at 
 her feet, and shouts of applause rang in 
 the sky. 
 
 Pride shone in her eyes for a moment, 
 then it was dimmed in tears. 
 
 " I have no joy in conquest," she 
 cried, the woman in sorrow. 
 
 I asked her, " Tell me whom do 
 you seek ? " 
 
 She only said, " I wait for him of the 
 unknown name." 
 
 Days pass by and she cries, " When 
 will my beloved come whom I know 
 not, and be known to me for ever ? " 
 
80 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LVIII 
 
 Yours is the light that breaks forth 
 from the dark, and the good that sprouts 
 from the cleft heart of strife. 
 
 Yours is the house that opens upon 
 the world, and the love that calls to 
 the battlefield. 
 
 Yours is the gift that still is a gain 
 when everything is a loss, and the life 
 that flows through the caverns of 
 death. 
 
 Yours is the heaven that lies in the 
 common dust, and you are there for me, 
 you are there for all. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 81 
 
 LIX 
 
 When the weariness of the road is 
 upon me, and the thirst of the sultry 
 day; when the ghostly hours of the 
 dusk throw their shadows across my 
 life, then I cry not for your voice only, 
 my friend, but for your touch. 
 
 There is an anguish in my heart for 
 the burden of its riches not given to 
 you. 
 
 Put out your hand through the 
 night, let me hold it and fill it and keep 
 it ; let me feel its touch along the 
 lengthening stretch of my loneliness. 
 
 G 
 
82 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LX 
 
 The odour cries in the bud, " Ah me, 
 the day departs, the happy day of spring, 
 and I am a prisoner in petals ! " 
 
 Do not lose heart, timid thing ! 
 
 Your bonds will burst, the bud will 
 open into flower, and when you die in 
 the fulness of life, even then the spring 
 will live on. 
 
 The odour pants and flutters within 
 the bud, crying, " Ah me, the hours pass 
 by, yet I do not know where 1 go, or 
 what it is I seek ! " 
 
 Do not lose heart, timid thing ! 
 
 The spring breeze has overheard 
 your desire, the day will not end before 
 you have fulfilled your being. 
 
 Dark is the future to her, and the 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 83 
 
 odour cries in despair, " Ah me, through 
 whose fault is my life so unmeaning ? 
 
 " Who can tell me, why I am at 
 all?" 
 
 Do not lose heart, timid thing ! 
 
 The perfect dawn is near when you 
 will mingle your life with all life and 
 know at last your purpose. 
 
84 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXI 
 
 She is still a child, my lord. 
 
 She runs about your palace and 
 plays, and tries to make of you a play- 
 thing as well. 
 
 She heeds not when her hair tumbles 
 down and her careless garment drags in 
 the dust. 
 
 She falls asleep when you speak to 
 her and answers not — and the flower 
 you give her in the morning slips to the 
 dust from her hands. 
 
 When the storm bursts and darkness 
 is over the sky she is sleepless ; her 
 dolls lie scattered on the earth and she 
 clings to you in terror. 
 
 She is afraid that she may fail in 
 service to you. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 85 
 
 But with a smile you watch her at 
 her game. 
 
 You know her. 
 
 The child sitting in the dust is your 
 destined bride ; her play will be stilled 
 and deepened into love. 
 
86 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXII 
 
 " What is there but the sky, O Sun, 
 that can hold thine image ? " 
 
 " I dream of thee, but to serve thee 
 I can never hope," the dewdrop wept 
 and said, " I am too small to take thee 
 unto me, great lord, and my life is all 
 tears." 
 
 " I illumine the limitless sky, yet I 
 can yield myself up to a tiny drop of 
 dew," thus the Sun said ; " I shall be- 
 come but a sparkle of light and fill you, 
 and your little life will be a laughing 
 orb." 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 87 
 
 LXIII 
 
 Not for me is the love that knows no 
 restraint, but like the foaming wine that 
 having burst its vessel in a moment 
 would run to waste. 
 
 Send me the love which is cool and 
 pure like your rain that blesses the 
 thirsty earth and fills the homely 
 earthen jars. 
 
 Send me the love that would soak 
 down into the centre of being, and from 
 there would spread like the unseen sap 
 through the branching tree of life, giving 
 birth to fruits and flowers. 
 
 Send me the love that keeps the 
 heart still with the fulness of peace. 
 
88 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXIV 
 
 The sun had set on the western 
 margin of the river among the tangle of 
 the forest. 
 
 The hermit boys had brought the 
 cattle home, and sat round the fire to 
 listen to the master, Gautama, when a 
 strange boy came, and greeted him with 
 fruits and flowers, and, bowing low at 
 his feet, spoke in a bird-like voice — 
 •' Lord, I have come to thee to be taken 
 into the path of the supreme Truth. 
 
 " My name is Satyakama." 
 
 " Blessings be on thy head," said the 
 master. 
 
 " Of what clan art thou, my child ? 
 It is only fitting for a Brahmin to 
 aspire to the highest wisdom." 
 
 " Master," answered the boy, " I 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 89 
 
 know not of what clan I am. I shall 
 go and ask my mother." 
 
 Thus saying, Satyakama took leave, 
 and wading across the shallow stream, 
 came back to his mother's hut, which 
 stood at the end of the sandy waste at 
 the edge of the sleeping village. 
 
 The lamp burnt dimly in the room, 
 and the mother stood at the door in the 
 dark waiting for her son's return. 
 
 She clasped him to her bosom, kissed 
 him on his hair, and asked him of his 
 errand to the master. 
 
 "What is the name of my father, 
 dear mother ? " asked the boy. 
 
 "It is only fitting for a Brahmin to 
 aspire to the highest wisdom, said Lord 
 Gautama to me." 
 
 The woman lowered her eyes, and 
 spoke in a whisper. 
 
 " In my youth I was poor and had 
 
90 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 many masters. Thou didst come to thy 
 mother Jabala's arms, my darling, who 
 had no husband." 
 
 The early rays of the sun glistened 
 on the tree-tops of the forest hermitage. 
 
 The students, with their tangled hair 
 still wet with their morning bath, sat 
 under the ancient tree, before the 
 master. 
 
 There came Satyakama. 
 
 He bowed low at the feet of the 
 sage, and stood silent. 
 
 " Tell me," the great teacher asked 
 him, " of what clan art thou ? " 
 
 " My lord," he answered, " I know it 
 not. My mother said when I asked 
 her, ' I had served many masters in my 
 youth, and thou hadst come to thy 
 mother Jabala's arms, who had no 
 husband.' " 
 
 There rose a murmur like the angry 
 hum of bees disturbed in their hive: 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 91 
 
 and the students muttered at the 
 shameless insolence of that outcast. 
 
 Master Gautama rose from his seat, 
 stretched out his arms, took the boy 
 to his bosom, and said, " Best of all 
 Brahmins art thou, my child. Thou 
 hast the noblest heritage of truth." 
 
92 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXV 
 
 May be there is one house in this 
 city where the gate opens for ever this 
 morning at the touch of the sunrise, 
 where the errand of the Hght is fulfilled. 
 The flowers have opened in hedges 
 and gardens, and may be there is one 
 heart that has found in them this 
 morning the gift that has been on its 
 voyage from endless time. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 93 
 
 LXVI 
 
 Listen, my heart, in his flute is the 
 music of the smell of wild flowers, of 
 the glistening leaves and gleaming 
 water, of shadows resonant with bees' 
 wings. 
 
 The flute steals his smile from my 
 friend's lips and spreads it over my life. 
 
94 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXVII 
 
 You always stand alone beyond the 
 stream of my songs. 
 
 The waves of my tunes wash your 
 feet but I know not how to reach them. 
 
 This play of mine with you is a play 
 from afar. 
 
 It is the pain of separation that 
 melts into melody through my flute. 
 
 I wait for the time when your boat 
 crosses over to my shore and you take 
 my flute into your own hands. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 95 
 
 LXVIII 
 
 Suddenly the window of my heart 
 flew open this morning, the window that 
 looks out on your heart. 
 
 I wondered to see that the name by 
 which you know me is written in April 
 leaves and flowers, and I sat silent. 
 
 The curtain was blown away for a 
 moment between my songs and yours. 
 
 I found that your morning light was 
 full of my own mute songs unsung ; I 
 thought that I would learn them at 
 your feet — and I sat silent. 
 
96 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXIX 
 
 You were in the centre of my heart, 
 therefore when my heart wandered she 
 never found you ; you hid yourself from 
 my loves and hopes till the last, for 
 you were always in them. 
 
 You were the inmost joy in the play 
 of my youth, and when I was too busy 
 with the play the joy was passed by. 
 
 You sang to me in the ecstasies of 
 my life and I forgot to sing to you. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 97 
 
 LXX 
 
 When you hold your lamp in the 
 sky it throws its light on my face and 
 its shadow falls over you. 
 
 When I hold the lamp of love in 
 my heart its light falls on you and I 
 am left standing behind in the shadow. 
 
 H 
 
98 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXXI 
 
 O THE waves, the sky-devouring waves, 
 glistening with light, dancing with life, 
 the waves of eddying joy, rushing for 
 ever. 
 
 The stars rock upon them, thoughts 
 of every tint are cast up out of the 
 deep and scattered on the beach of life. 
 
 Birth and death rise and fall with 
 their rhythm, and the sea-gull of my 
 heart spreads its wings crying in 
 delight. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 99 
 
 LXXII 
 
 The joy ran from all the world to build 
 my body. 
 
 The lights of the skies kissed and 
 kissed her till she woke. 
 
 Flowers of hurrying summers sighed 
 in her breath and voices of winds and 
 water sang in her movements. 
 
 The passion of the tide of colours 
 in clouds and in forests flowed into her 
 life, and the music of all things caressed 
 her limbs into shape. 
 
 She is my bride, — she has lighted 
 her lamp in my house. 
 
100 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXXIII 
 
 The spring with its leaves and flowers 
 has come into my body. 
 
 The bees hum there the morning 
 long, and the winds idly play with the 
 shadows. 
 
 A sweet fountain springs up from 
 the heart of my heart. 
 
 My eyes are washed with delight 
 like the dew -bathed morning, and life 
 is qvuvering in all my limbs like the 
 sounding strings of the lute. 
 
 Are you wandering alone by the shore 
 of my life, where the tide is in flood, 
 O lover of my endless days ? 
 
 Are my dreams flitting round you 
 like the moths with their many-coloured 
 wings ? 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 101 
 
 And are those your songs that are 
 echoing in the dark caves of my being ? 
 
 Who but you can hear the hum of 
 the crowded hours that sounds in my 
 veins to-day, the glad steps that dance 
 in my breast, the clamour of the restless 
 life beating its wings in my body ? 
 
102 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXXIV 
 
 My bonds are cut, my debts are 
 paid, my door has been opened, I go 
 everywhere. 
 
 They crouch in their corner and 
 weave their web of pale hours, they 
 count their coins sitting in the dust 
 and call me back. 
 
 But my sword is forged, my armour 
 is put on, my horse is eager to run. 
 I shall win my kingdom. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 103 
 
 LXXV 
 
 It was only the other day that I 
 came to your earth, naked and name- 
 less, with a wailing cry. 
 
 To-day my voice is glad, while you, 
 my lord, stand aside to make room 
 that I may fill my life. 
 
 Even when I bring you my songs 
 for an offering 1 have the secret hope 
 that men will come and love me for 
 them. 
 
 You love to discover that I love this 
 world where you have brought me. 
 
104 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXXVI 
 
 Timidly I cowered in the shadow of 
 safety, but now, when the surge of joy- 
 carries my heart upon its crest, my 
 heart clings to the cruel rock of its 
 trouble. 
 
 I sat alone in a comer of my house 
 thinking it too narrow for any guest, 
 but now when its door is flung open by 
 an unbidden joy I find there is room for 
 thee and for all the world. 
 
 I walked upon tiptoe, careful of my 
 person, perfumed, and adorned — but 
 now when a glad whirlwind has over- 
 thrown me in the dust I laugh and roll 
 on the earth at thy feet like a child. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 105 
 
 LXXVII 
 
 The world is yours at once and for 
 ever. 
 
 And because you have no want, my 
 king, you have no pleasure in your 
 wealth. 
 
 It is as though it were naught. 
 
 Therefore through slow time you 
 give me what is yours, and ceaselessly 
 win your kingdom in me. 
 
 Day after day you buy your sunrise 
 from my heart, and you find your love 
 carven into the image of my life. 
 
106 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXXVIII 
 
 To the birds you gave songs, the 
 birds gave you songs in return. 
 
 You gave me only voice, yet asked 
 for more, and I sing. 
 
 You made your winds hght and they 
 are fleet in their service. You burdened 
 my hands that I myself may lighten 
 them, and at last, gain unburdened 
 freedom for your service. 
 
 You created your Earth filling its 
 shadows with fragments of light. 
 
 There you paused ; you left me 
 empty-handed in the dust to create 
 your heaven. 
 
 To all things else you give ; from me 
 you ask. 
 
 The harvest of my life ripens in the 
 sun and the shower tiU I reap more 
 than you sowed, gladdening your heart, 
 O Master of the golden granary. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 107 
 
 LXXIX 
 
 Let me not pray to be sheltered from 
 dangers but to be fearless in facing 
 them. 
 
 Let me not beg for the stilling of 
 my pain but for the heart to conquer it. 
 
 Let me not look for allies in life's 
 battlefield but to my own strength. 
 
 Let me not crave in anxious fear to 
 be saved but hope for the patience to 
 win my freedom. 
 
 Grant me that I may not be a 
 coward, feeling your mercy in my 
 success alone ; but let me find the grasp 
 of your hand in my failure. 
 
108 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXXX 
 
 You did not know yourself when 
 you dwelt alone, and there was no 
 crying of an errand when the wind ran 
 from the hither to the farther shore. 
 
 I came and you woke, and the skies 
 blossomed with lights. 
 
 You made me open in many flowers ; 
 rocked me in the cradles of many forms; 
 hid me in death and found me again in 
 life. 
 
 I came and your heart heaved ; pain 
 came to you and joy. 
 
 You touched me and tingled into 
 love. 
 
 But in my eyes there is a film of 
 shame and in my breast a flicker of 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 109 
 
 fear ; my face is veiled and I weep 
 when I cannot see you. 
 
 Yet I know the endless thirst in 
 your heart for sight of me, the thirst 
 that cries at my door in the repeated 
 knockings of sunrise. 
 
110 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXXXI 
 
 You, in your timeless watch, listen to 
 my approaching steps, while your glad- 
 ness gathers in the morning twilight 
 and breaks in the burst of light. 
 
 The nearer I draw to you the deeper 
 grows the fervour in the dance of the 
 sea. 
 
 Your world is a branching spray of 
 light filling your hands, but your heaven 
 is in my secret heart ; it slowly opens 
 its buds in shy love. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 111 
 
 LXXXII 
 
 1 WILL utter your name, sitting alone 
 among the shadows of my silent 
 thoughts. 
 
 I will utter it without words, I will 
 utter it without purpose. 
 
 For I am like a child that calls its 
 mother an hundred times, glad that it 
 can say " Mother." 
 
112 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXXXIII 
 
 I FEEL that all the stars shine in me. 
 
 The world breaks into my life like 
 a flood. 
 
 The flowers blossom in my body. 
 
 All the youthfulness of land and 
 water smokes like an incense in my 
 heart ; and the breath of all things plays 
 on my thoughts as on a flute. 
 
 II 
 
 'When the world sleeps I come to 
 your door. 
 
 The stars are silent, and I am afraid 
 to sing. 
 
 I wait and watch, till your shadow 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 113 
 
 passes by the balcony of night and I 
 return with a full heart. 
 
 Then in the morning I sing by the 
 roadside ; 
 
 The flowers in the hedge give me 
 answer and the morning air listens. 
 
 The travellers suddenly stop and 
 look in my face, thinking I have called 
 them by their names. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Keep me at your door ever attending 
 to your wishes, and let me go about in 
 your Kingdom accepting your call. 
 
 Let me not sink and disappear in 
 the depth of languor. 
 
 Let not my life be worn out to 
 tatters by penury of waste. 
 
 Let not those doubts encompass me, 
 
 — the dust of distractions. 
 
 I 
 
114 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 Let me not pursue many paths to 
 gather many things. 
 
 Let me not bend my heart to the 
 yoke of the many. 
 
 Let me hold my head high in the 
 courage and pride of being your servant. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 115 
 
 LXXXIV 
 
 THE OARSMEN 
 
 Do you hear the tumult of death afar, 
 The call midst the fire -floods and 
 
 poisonous clouds 
 — The Captain's call to the steersman 
 
 to turn the ship to an unnamed 
 
 shore. 
 For that time is over — the stagnant 
 
 time in the port — 
 Where the same old merchandise is 
 
 bought and sold in an endless 
 
 round. 
 Where dead things drift in the ex- 
 haustion and emptiness of truth. 
 
 They wake up in sudden fear and ask, 
 " Comrades, what hour has struck ? 
 When shall the dawn begin ? " 
 
116 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 The clouds have blotted away the 
 stars — 
 
 Who is there then can see the beckon- 
 ing finger of the day ? 
 
 They run out with oars in hand, the 
 beds are emptied, the mother 
 prays, the wife watches by the 
 door; 
 
 There is a wail of parting that rises to 
 the sky. 
 
 And there is the Captain's voice in 
 the dark : 
 
 "Come, sailors, for the time in the 
 harbour is over ! " 
 
 All the black evils in the world have 
 
 overflowed their banks. 
 Yet, oarsmen, take your places with the 
 
 blessing of sorrow in your souls ! 
 Whom do you blame, brothers ? Bow 
 
 your heads down ! 
 The sin has been yours and ours. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 117 
 
 The heat growing in the heart of God 
 for ages— 
 
 The cowardice of the weak, the arro- 
 gance of the strong, the greed of 
 fat prosperity, the rancour of the 
 wronged, pride of race, and insult 
 to man — 
 
 Has burst God's peace, raging in storm. 
 
 Like a ripe pod, let the tempest break 
 its heart into pieces, scattering 
 thunders. 
 
 Stop your bluster of dispraise and of 
 self-praise. 
 
 And with the calm of silent prayer on 
 your foreheads sail to that un- 
 named shore. 
 
 We have known sins and evils every 
 day and death we have known ; 
 
 They pass over our world like clouds 
 mocking us with their transient 
 lightning laughter. 
 
118 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 Suddenly they have stopped, become a 
 prodigy, 
 
 And men must stand before them 
 saying : 
 
 " We do not fear you, O Monster ! for 
 we have lived every day by con- 
 quering you, 
 
 " And we die with the faith that Peace 
 is true, and Good is true, and true 
 is the eternal One ! " 
 
 If the Deathless dwell not in the heart 
 
 of death. 
 If glad wisdom bloom not bursting the 
 
 sheath of soitow. 
 If sin do not die of its own revealment. 
 If pride break not under its load of 
 
 decorations. 
 Then whence comes the hope that 
 
 drives these men from their homes 
 
 like stars rushing to their death in 
 
 the morning light ? 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 119 
 
 Shall the value of the martyrs' blood 
 and mothers' tears be utterly lost 
 in the dust of the earth, not buying 
 Heaven with their price ? 
 
 And when Man bursts his mortal 
 bounds, is not the Boundless re- 
 vealed that moment ? 
 
120 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXXXV 
 
 THE SONG OF THE 
 DEFEATED 
 
 My Master has bid me while I stand at 
 the roadside, to sing the song of Defeat, 
 for that is the bride whom He woos in 
 secret. 
 
 She has put on the dark veil, hiding 
 her face from the crowd, but the jewel 
 glows on her breast in the dark. 
 
 She is forsaken of the day, and God's 
 night is waiting for her with its lamps 
 lighted and flowers wet with dew. 
 
 She is silent with her eyes down- 
 cast ; she has left her home behind her, 
 from her home has come that wailing in 
 the ^vind. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 121 
 
 But the stars are singing the love- 
 song of the eternal to a face sweet 
 with shame and suffering. 
 
 The door has been opened in the 
 lonely chamber, the call has sounded, 
 and the heart of the darkness throbs 
 with awe because of the coming tryst. 
 
122 FRUIT-GATHERING 
 
 LXXXVI 
 
 THANKSGIVING 
 
 Those who walk on the path of pride 
 crushing the lowly life under their 
 tread, covering the tender green of the 
 earth with their footprints in blood ; 
 
 Let them rejoice, and thank thee. 
 Lord, for the day is theirs. 
 
 But I am thankful that my lot lies 
 with the humble who suffer and bear 
 the burden of power, and hide their 
 faces and stifle their sobs in the dark. 
 
 For every throb of their pain has 
 pulsed in the secret d^th of thy night, 
 and every insult has been gathered into 
 thy great silence. 
 
FRUIT-GATHERING 123 
 
 And the morrow is theirs. 
 
 O Sun, rise upon the bleeding hearts 
 blossoming in flowers of the morning, 
 and the torchlight revelry of pride 
 shrunken to ashes. 
 
 THE END 
 
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