The Evening Was Lonely

The evening was lonely for me, and I was reading a book
till my heart became dry, and it seemed to me that beauty was a thing fashioned by the traders in words.
Tired I shut the book and snuffed the candle.
In a moment the room was flooded with moonlight.
Spirit of Beauty, how could you, whose radiance overbrims the sky, stand hidden behind a candle's tiny flame?
How could a few vain words from a book rise like a mist, and veil her
whose voice has hushed the heart of earth into ineffable calm?

~ A poem by Rabindranath Tagore

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