the evening was lonely for me

rabindranath tagore

the evening was lonely for me, and i was reading a book till my
heart became dry, and it seemed to me that beauty was a thing
fashioned by the traders in words. tired i shut the book and
snuffed the candle. in a moment the room was flooded with moonlight

spirit of beauty, how could you, whose radiance over-brims the
sky, stand hidden behind a candle’s tiny flame? how could a few
vain words from a book rise like a mist, and veil her whose voice
has hushed the heart of earth into ineffable calm?