The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1915-03-03
WOMAN'S CLUB WORK
MRS. L. H. Won ENGELKEN
Editor for March
Rabindranath Tagore and His Philos-
Ophy of Life
(By Georgina Roberts)

Il read Rabindranath every day; to
read one line of his is to forget all
the troubles of the world"
These words Of distinguished Ben
gall doctor of medicine, addressed to
the English poet Yeats disclose the
secret of the Indian mystic power.
His magic songs stir the soul and lift
it on the wings Of vision Unto the
audience hall, by the fathomless abyss,
where swells up the music Of toneless
strings"
Sorrow shrinks and small seem life's
frets and cares when these words
strike the ear: Thou hast made me
endless, such is Thy pleasure. This
frail vessel Thou emptiest again and
again and fillest it with ever fresh
life"
Only few short years ago Rabin-
dranath Tagore was unknown in our
western lands, but already in India
they were speaking of the time as
''the epoch of Rabindranath," and his
songs We're sung, set to music by him
self, from the west of India into Bur
ma; wherever Bengali was spoken.
Born of family that for genera
tions has filed large place in the
political, intellectual and spiritual
life of India, Rabindranath in youth
was surrounded by all those infuen-
ces of culture and beauty which speak
so powerfully to poet soul. Even
in his earliest years he felt the mys-
terry in which all life is embodied and
during long sunny hours in his fathers
garden with little bamboo stick in
hand he would delve into the earth;
filed with tremulous hope that under
some fresh brown sod wonderful sec
ret would be disclosed! Speaking of
these childhood days in the Gitanjali,
he says: "Thou didst not turn in con-
tempt from my childish play among
dust, and the steps that 1 heard in
my playground are the same that are
echoing from star to start"
Part of Rabindranath's boyhood was
spent among the awe inspiring seen
cry of the Himalaya Mountains and
in his fathers garden house on the
banks of the Ganges, where he would
pass long sleepless nights on the roof,
questioning the stars and listening to
the message sung by the tapping
waves of the river.
Then followed years in Europe,
spent in study and observation. On
his return to India the young poet
threw himself with zest into the gay
life around him, and to this period be-
long the early love songs which he
has given us in "The Gardener"
''No mystery beyond the present;
no striving for the impossible; no
shadow behind the charm; no cropping
in the depth of the dark. This love
between you and me is simple as q
song. We do not stray out of all words
into ever silent; we do not raise our
hands to the void, for things beyond
hope.
at is enough that we give and we
get. We have not crushed the JOY
to the utmost, to wiring from it the
wine of pain. This love between you
and me is simple as a song"
But life brought later the love
which is not simple, the love which
kindles a spiritual yearning and hints
of the infinite and of the eternal.
'I hold her hands and press her tc
my breast. try to fill my arms with
her loneliness, to plumber her sweet
smile with kisses, to drink her dark
chances with my eyes. All, but where
is it? Who can strain the blue from
the sky? / try to grasp the beauty
it eludes me, leaving only the body ii
my hands. Baffied and weary / come
back. How can the body touch the
flower, which only the spirit may
touch ?"
When so years of age a crushing
sorrow came into the life of the poei
and turned his thoughts to God. DEATH
took from him the young wife tc
whom he was deeply devoted. 'In des-
| perate hope / go and search for hel
in all the corners of my room; fine
her not. My house is small, and what
has gone from it can never be regain
ed. But infinite is Thy mansion, my
Lord, and seeking her have come tt
Thy door. have come to the brink o.
eternity, from which nothing can van
ish-no hope, no happiness, no vision
of face seen through tears"
The poets soul is now filled will
love of God, and again and again h
watts the incense of his song to 'eTh'
Master Poet" my poets vanity die
in shame before Thy sight. Oh, Mas
ter Poet, have sat down at Thy feet
Only let me make my life simple ant
straight like flute of reed, for The
to fill with music"
To love God truly is to have sym
pathy for all his creatures and t
realize that He is in them, the lowli
est as well as the greatest. Here i
Thy footstool and there rest Thy fee
where live the poorest and lowlies
and lost And again, Leave thi
chanting and singing and telling o
beads! Whom dost thou worship il
this lonely dark corner of a temple
with doors all shut? Open thine eye