The Gardener :  To the Guests



The Gardener : To the Guests


To the guests that must go bid
God's speed and brush away all traces
of their steps.


Take to your bosom with a smile
what is easy and simple and near.


To-day is the festival of phantoms
that know not when they die.


Let your laughter be but a meaning-
less mirth like twinkles of light on
the ripples.


Let your life lightly dance on the
edges of Time like dew on the tip of
a leaf.


Strike in chords from your harp
fitful momentary rhythms.


BY Rabindranath Tagore

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The Gardener : To the Guests





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