. . . .

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)