Gitanjali 07: My song has put off her adornments. She has no

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.