Shantiniketan Poem by MOLOY BHATTACHARYA

Every time I visit
The land of Tagore
I feel his eerie presence
In the procession of trees
Of the abode of learning.
The sweet smell of flowers,
The green and fresh leaves
Dangling from the branches
In the pampering breeze
And making the fallen ones
Dry and withered for long
Crushed under my feet,
I feel the fleshy odour,
Only the soul appears
In the form of children
Reading aloud their lesson
At the feet of trees,
Their noises create a symphony
Of sound and ecstasy
To remind me his presence
Everywhere in that abode
Of peace and posterity.
A mere human being
No longer he is to us
Rather a blessed heritage.