THE FATHER came back from the funeral rites.
        His boy of seven stood at the window, with eyes wide open and a golden amulet hanging from his neck, full of thoughts too difficult for his age.
        His father took him in his arms and the boy asked him, 'Where is mother?'
        In heaven,' answered his father, pointing to the sky.
At night the father groaned in slumber, weary with grief.
        A lamp dimly burned near the bedroom door, and a lizard chased moths on the wall.
        The boy woke up from sleep, felt with his hands the emptiness in the bed, and stole out to the open terrace.
        The boy raised his eyes to the sky and long gazed in silence. His bewildered mind sent abroad into the night the question, 'Where is heaven?'
No answer came: and the stars seemed like the burning tears of that ignorant darkness.

FEAR NOT, FOR thou shalt conquer,
thy doors will open, thy bonds break.
Often thou losest thyself in sleep,
and yet must find back thy world
again and again.
The call comes to thee from the earth and sky
the call from among men,
the call to sing of gladness and pain,
of shame and fear.
The leaves and the flowers,
the waters that fall and flow,
ask for thy notes to mingle with their own,
the darkness and light
to tremble in the rhythm of thy song.

শেষ কহে, একদিন সব শেষ হবে,
হে আরম্ভ, বৃথা তব অহংকার তবে।
আরম্ভ কহিল ভাই, যেথা শেষ হয়
সেইখানে পুনরায় আরম্ভ-উদয়।