I have posted before one of the poems from "Gitanjali," the "Song Offerings" of Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941). I first discovered them during my time in Rome in the early sixties, and have bought and given away numerous copies of this small, but precious book.Yesterday one of the undergraduates at Boston College told me of discovering them for the first time, and being moved by them.Here are two that seem suited for Lenten reflection and prayer:

*When thou commandest me to sing it seems that my heart would break with pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come to my eyes. All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet harmony---and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight across the sea.I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer I come before thy presence. I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy feet which I could never aspire to reach.Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee friend who art my lord.*My song has put off her adornments. She has no pride of dress and decoration. Ornaments would mar our union; they would come between thee and me; their jingling would drown thy whispers.My poet's vanity dies in shame before thy sight. O master poet, I have sat down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple and straight, like a flute of reed for thee to fill with music.

Robert P. Imbelli, a priest of the Archdiocese of New York, is a longtime Commonweal contributor.

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