You came down from your throne and stood at my cottage door.
I was singing all alone in a corner, and the melody caught your ear. you came down and stood at my cottage door.
Masters are many in your hall, and songs are sung there at all hours. But the simple carol of this novice struck at your love. One plaintive little strain mingled with the great music of the world, and with a flower for a prize you came down and stopped at my cottage door.
From Gitanjali (Macmillan and Company, 1916) by Rabindranath Tagore. This poem is in the public domain.