Gitanjali - Guest:
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The night darkened.
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Our day's works had been done.
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We thought that the last guest had arrived for the night and the doors in the village were all shut.
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Only some said the king was to come.
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We laughed and said - No, it cannot be!
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It seemed there were knocks at the door and we said it was nothing but the wind.
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We put out the lamps and lay down to sleep.
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Only some said, It is the messenger!
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We laughed and said - No, it must be the wind!
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There came a sound in the dead of the night.
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We sleepily thought it was the distant thunder.
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The earth shook, the walls rocked, and it troubled us in our sleep.
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Only some said it was the sound of wheels.
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We said in a drowsy murmur, No, it must be the rumbling of clouds!
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The night was still dark when the drum sounded.
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The voice came - Wake up!
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delay not!
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We pressed our hands on our hearts and shuddered with fear.
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Some said, Lo, there is the king's flag!
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We stood up on our feet and cried - There is no time for delay!
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The king has come but where are lights, where are wreaths?
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Where is the throne to seat him?
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Oh, shame!
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Oh utter shame!
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Where is the hall, the decorations?
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Someone has said, Vain is this cry!
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Greet him with empty hands, lead him into your rooms all bare!
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Open the doors, let the conch-shells be sounded!
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in the depth of the night has come the king of our dark, dreary house.
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The thunder roars in the sky.
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The darkness shudders with lightning.
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Bring out your tattered piece of mat and spread it in the courtyard.
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With the storm has come of a sudden our king of the fearful night.
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