Poem: "Take, oh Take" by Rabindranath Tagore

Time after time I came to your gate

with raised hands, asking for more and yet more.

You gave and gave, now in slow measure, now in sudden excess.

I took some, and some things I let drop; some lay heavy on my hands;

some I made into playthings and broke

them when tired; till the wrecks and

the hoard of your gifts grew immense,

hiding you, and the ceaseless expectation

wore my heart out.

Take, oh take - has now become my cry.

Shatter all from this beggar's bowl;

put out the lamp of the importunate watcher;

hold my hands, raise me from

the still-gathering heap of your gifts

into the bare infinity of your

uncrowded  presence.