“I thought that my voyage had come to its end
at the last limit of my power, –
that the path before me was closed,
that provisions were exhausted
and the time come to take shelter
in a silent obscurity.”
(R. Tagore in Gitanjali no. 37)
“O powerful western fallen star!
O shades of night! O moody, tearful night!
O great star disappear’d! O the black murk that hides the star!
O cruel hands that hold me powerless! O helpless soul of me!
O harsh surrounding cloud, that will not free my soul!”
(W. Whitman in When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d)
"Little wind, blow on the hill-top,
Little wind, blow down the plain;
Little wind, blow up the sunshine,
Little wind, blow off the rain."
(Kate Greenaway, no title, in Under the Window: Pictures & Rhymes for Children)
“If the day is done,
if birds sing no more,
if the wind has flagged tired,
then draw the veil of darkness thick upon me,
even as thou hast wrapt the earth
with the coverlet of sleep
and tenderly closed the petals
of the drooping lotus at dusk.”
(R. Tagore from Gitanjali)
"I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane."
(R. Stevenson in The land of counterpane)