Fireflies My fancies are fireflies, —Specks of living lighttwinkling in the dark. The voice of wayside pansies,that do not attract the careless glance,murmurs in these desultory lines. In the drowsy dark caves of the minddreams build their nest with fragmentsdropped from day’s caravan. Spring scatters the petals of flowersthat are not for the fruits of… Continue reading Rabindranath Tagore