Gitanjali 99

When I give up the helm I know that 
the time has come for thee to take it. 
What there is to do will be instantly 
done. Vain is this struggle.
   Then take away your hands and
silently put up with your defeat, my 
heart, and think it your good fortune
to sit perfectly still where you are
   These my lamps are blown out at
every little puff of wind, and trying to 
light them I forget all else again and 
   But I shall be wise this time and wait
in the dark, spreading my mat on the 
floor; and whenever it is thy pleasure,
my lord, come silently and take thy seat here.

From Gitanjali (Macmillan and Co., Limited, 1913) by Rabindranath Tagore. This poem is in the public domain.