. . . .

I know the day will come
When my sight of this world shall be lost
Life will take its leave in silence
Drawing the last curtain before my eyes
Yet stars will still shine at night
And mornings rise as before
And hours will still heave like sea waves
Casting up pleasures and pains
When I think of this end of my moments
The barrier of the moments breaks
And I see by the light of death
Your world with its careless treasures
Rare is its meanest of lives
Rare is its lowliest eat
Things that I longed for in vain
And things that I got—let them pass
Let me but truly possess
The things that I ever spurned and overlooked

(Rabindranath Tagore, 1913) 

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