On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time

    On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. 
     But it is never lost, my Lord. 
Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands.
          Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing 
    seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, 
                    and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.
          I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed 
   and imagined all work had ceased. 
In the morning I woke up and found my garden 
                                 full with wonders of flowers.







                             originally in bengali and translated into english
                                     by rabindranath tagore himself







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