Page:Chitra - Rabindranath Tagore.djvu/41



Home! But this love is not for a home!

Not for a home?

No. Never talk of that. Take to your home what is abiding and strong. Leave the little wild flower where it was born; leave it beautifully to die at the day’s end among all fading blossoms and decaying leaves. Do not take it to your palace hall to fling it on the stony floor which knows no pity for things that fade and are forgotten.

Is ours that kind of love?

Yes, no other! Why regret it? That which was meant for idle days