Page:Letters of Tagore.djvu/21

Rh of mother Earth dry up, they know not what to do, but can only cry. And no sooner is their hunger satisfied than they forget all their past sufferings.

I know not whether the Socialistic ideal of a more equal distribution of wealth is attainable, but if not, then such dispensation of providence is indeed cruel, and man is truly an unfortunate creature. For if in this world misery needs must exist, be it so; but let some little loophole, some glimpse of possibility at least, be left which may serve to urge the nobler portion of humanity to hope and struggle unceasingly for its removal.

What a terribly hard thing they say who aver that the division of the world's production to afford each one a mouthful of food, a bit of clothing, is only a Utopian dream. How hard, in fact, are all these social problems. Fate has allowed humanity such a pitifully meagre coverlet that in pulling it over one part of the world, another has to be left bare. In allaying our poverty, we lose our wealth, and with this wealth what a world of grace and beauty and power is lost to our Society.

But the sun shines forth again, though the clouds are still banked up in the West.