From Gitanjali.....
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou  emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
 This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy  and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
 Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages  pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to  fill.
 
 
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