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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=479949" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lover's Gifts LVI: The Evening Was Lonely</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=479949" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The evening was lonely for me, and I was reading a book till my<br>heart became dry, and it seemed to me that beauty was a thing<br>fashioned by the traders in words. Tired I shut the book and<br>snuffed the candle. In a moment the room was flooded with<br>moonlight.<br> Spirit of Beauty, how could you, whose radiance overbrims the<br>sky, stand hidden behind a candle's tiny flame? How could a few<br>vain words from a book rise like a mist, and veil her whose voice<br>has hushed the heart of earth into ineffable calm?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Rabindranath+Tagore">Rabindranath Tagore</a></strong></div>

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