I FEEL THAT your brief days of love have not been left behind in those scanty years of your life.
        I seek to know in what place, away from the slow-thieving dust, you keep them now. I find in my solitude some song of your evening that died, yet left a deathless echo; and the sighs of your unsatisfied hours I find nestled in the warm quiet of the autumn noon.
Your desires come from the hive of the past to haunt my heart, and I sit still to listen to their wings.

IN THE YOUTH of the world, Himalaya, you sprang from the rent breast of the earth, and hurled your burning challenges to the sun, hill after hill. Then came the mellow time when you said to yourself, 'No more, no further!' and your fiery heart, that raged for the freedom of clouds, found its limits, and stood still to salute the limitless. After this check on your passion, beauty was free to play upon your breast, and trust surrounded you with the joy of flowers and birds.
You sit in your solitude like a great reader, on whose lap lies open some ancient book with its countless pages of stone. What story is written there, I wonder?is it the eternal wedding of the divine ascetic, Shiva, with Bhavani, the divine love?the drama of the Terrible wooing the power of the Frail?

মিলন-যাত্রায় তব পরিপূর্ণ প্রেমের পাথেয়
থাকুক অক্ষয় হয়ে, নির্ভয় বিশ্বাসে তুমি যেয়ো
কল্যাণের পুণ্যপথে অম্লান নূতন প্রাণলোকে--
আপন সংসারখানি সৃষ্টি করো আনন্দ-আলোকে।