I paced alone on the road across the field while the sunset was <br />hiding its last gold like a miser. <br /> The daylight sank deeper and deeper into the darkness, and the <br />widowed land, whose harvest had been reaped, lay silent. <br /> Suddenly a boy's shrill voice rose into the sky. He traversed <br />the dark unseen, leaving the track of his song across the hush of <br />the evening. <br /> His village home lay there at the end of the waste land, <br />beyond the sugar-cane field, hidden among the shadows of the banana <br />and the slender areca palm, the coconut and the dark green jack- <br />fruit trees. <br /> I stopped for a moment in my lonely way under the starlight, <br />and saw spread before me the darkened earth surrounding with her <br />arms countless homes furnished with cradles and beds, mother's <br />hearts and evening lamps, and young lives glad with a gladness that <br />knows nothing of its value for the world.<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-home/
