No. 10. IF SIR RABINDRANATH TAGORE HAD WRITTEN “LITTLE DROPS OF WATER”

Child, I am wondering. Last night I was watching the silver moon rising over the sea, And in her light the colour of the sea was pale, and the colour of the grasses was dark and sweet as the champak. I heard the ducks crying over the waters by the shore. I heard from the khitmatgar, threading like pearls on the darkness, the soft notes of the cummerbund. Child, I am wondering. Child, I smelt the flowers, The golden flowers ... hiding in crowds like fairies at my feet, And as I smelt them the endless smile of the infinite broke over me, and I knew that they and you and I were one. They and you and I, the cowherds and the cows, the jewels and the potter’s wheel, the mothers and the light in baby’s eyes. For the sempstress when she takes one stitch may make nine unnecessary; And the smooth and shining stone that rolls and rolls like the great river may gain no moss, And it is extraordinary what a lot you can do with a platitude when you dress it up in Blank Prose. Child, I smelt the flowers.