Language of its light Fills sky in loving delight; Its dust speaks the innate Divine words ultimate; Ceases to be external In my soul melodies to spell; On its grass My heart’s throbs pass; Beauty shapes up, flows the nectar My own bounds to blur; With all then I see My camaraderie.

Authors

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  Something Rich and Strange: Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941 ...

Sources

• Something Rich and Strange: Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941 ... smuralis.wordpress.com WordPress via serper

Referenced by nodes (2)

• soul concept
• beauty concept