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Indeed, when he is speaking of children, so much a part of

himself this quality seems, one is not certain that he is not

also speaking of the saints, "They build their houses with sand

and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they weave

their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children

have their play on the seashore of worlds. They know not how to

swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl fishers dive for

pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather

pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for hidden

treasures, they know not how to cast nets."

W.B. YEATS

September 1912.

GITANJALI

1.

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail

vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with

fresh life.

This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and

dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.