| Gitanjali |
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| Culture |
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INTRODUCTION |
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| Entering
my heart unbidden even as one of the common crowd, unknown to me, my
king, thou didst press the signet of eternity upon many a fleeting
moment.' This is no longer the sanctity of the cell and of the
scourge; being but a lifting up, as it were, into a greater
intensity of the mood of the painter, painting the dust and the
sunlight, and we go for a like voice to St. Francis and to William
Blake who have seemed so alien in our violent history.
III We write long books where no page perhaps has any quality to make writing a pleasure, being confident in some general design, just as weight and make money and fill our heads with politics all dull things in the doing while Mr. Tagore, like the Indian civilization itself, has been content to discover the soul and surrender himself to its spontaneity.
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| About Introduction | ||||||||||||||||||||
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