Spring That in My Courtyard
Spring that in my courtyard used to make
Such riot once, and buzzing laughter lift,
With heaped drift—
Pomegranate-flowers,
Kanchan, parul, rain of palas-showers;
Spring whose new twigs stirred the woods awake,
With rosy kisses maddening all the sky,1
Seeks me out to-day with soundless feet,
Where I sit alone. Her steadfast gaze
Goes out to where the fields and heavens meet;
Beside my silent cottage, silently
She looks and sees the greenness swoon and die
Into the azure haze.
Rabindranath Tagore.