After A Bengali Song

In the forest of my being the voice of your lute; In the depth of my heart the pearl of your tear; In the temple of my soul chimes the bell of your love.

The fire of dawn, shadow of eve, Life's sorrow, and death's mute-enchanting peace Steal away silently, fearfully, at thy flute's music.

O, frail, faint call which I seek to echo! O, breath of love laden with the aroma of my soul! Why seek I ever without, O guest at my door?

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