She who ever had remained in the depth of my being, <br />in the twilight of gleams and of glimpses; <br />she who never opened her veils in the morning light, <br />will be my last gift to thee, my God, folded in my final song. <br /> <br />Words have wooed yet failed to win her; <br />persuasion has stretched to her its eager arms in vain. <br /> <br />I have roamed from country to country keeping her in the core of my heart, <br />and around her have risen and fallen the growth and decay of my life. <br /> <br />Over my thoughts and actions, my slumbers and dreams, <br />she reigned yet dwelled alone and apart. <br /> <br />Many a man knocked at my door and asked for her <br />and turned away in despair. <br /> <br />There was none in the world who ever saw her face to face, <br />and she remained in her loneliness waiting for thy recognition. <br /><br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/she-3/
