The Gardener 12
If you would be busy and fill your pitcher, come, O come to my lake.The water will cling round your feet and babble its secret.The shadow of the coming rain is on the sands, and the clouds hanglow upon the blue lines of the trees like the heavy hair aboveyour eyebrows.I know well the rhythm of your steps, they are beating in my heart.Come, O come to my lake, if you must fill your pitcher.
If you would be idle and sit listless and let your pitcher floaton the water, come, O come to my lake.The grassy slope is green, and the wild flowers beyond number.Your thoughts will stray out of your dark eyes like birds from their nests.Your veil will drop to your feet.Come, O come to my lake if you must sit idle.
If you would leave off your play and dive in the water, come, O come to my lake.Let your blue mantle lie on the shore; the blue water will coveryou and hide you.The waves will stand a-tiptoe to kiss your neck and whisper in your ears.Come, O come to my lake, if you would dive in the water.
If you must be mad and leap to your death, come, O come to my lake.It is cool and fathomlessly deep.It is dark like a sleep that is dreamless.There in its depths nights and days are one, and songs are silence.Come, O come to my lake, if you would plunge to your death.
Words in this poem
- listless a.
- Having no desire or inclination; indifferent; heedless; spiritless. [OE. listles, lustles. See Lust.]
- dreamless a.
- Free from, or without, dreams. Camden.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Gardener 12 is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Gardener, translated by the author from the original Bengali (Macmillan, London and New York, 1913; this text the 1915 printing), Project Gutenberg ebook #6686; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Rabindranath Tagore, The Gardener 12, in The Gardener (1913), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #6686, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/tagore-gardener/poem-12.html, id L27648.
About this section
The Gardener 12 is prose, printed in 4 paragraphs. It is part of the edition and is kept for reading, but nothing here is measured: the line breaks are the printer's, so no metre, rhyme scheme or scansion is stated.
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