I know that the day will come when
my sight of this earth shall be lost, and
life will take its leave in silence, drawing
the last curtain over my eyes.
Yet stars will watch at night, and
morning rise as before, and hours heave
like sea waves casting up pleasures
When I think of this end of my
moments, the barrier of the moments
breaks and I see by the light of death
thy world with its careless treasures.
Rare is its lowliest seat, rare is its
meanest of lives.
Things that I longed for in vain and
things that I got-let them pass. Let
me but truly possess the things that I
ever spurned and overlooked.
From Gitanjali (Macmillan and Co., Limited, 1913) by Rabindranath Tagore. This poem is in the public domain.