The Gardener 39
I try to weave a wreath all the morning, but the flowers slip and they drop out.You sit there watching me in secret through the corner of your prying eyes.Ask those eyes, darkly planning mischief, whose fault it was.
I try to sing a song, but in vain.A hidden smile trembles on your lips, ask of it the reason of my failure.Let your smiling lips say on oath how my voice lost itself insilence like a drunken bee in the lotus.
It is evening, and the time for the flowers to close their petals.Give me leave to sit by your side, and bid my lips to do the workthat can be done in silence and in the dim light of stars.
Words in this poem
- prying a.
- Inspecting closely or impertinently.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Gardener 39 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 39, in The Gardener (1913), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #6686, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/tagore-gardener/poem-39.html, id L27675.
About this section
The Gardener 39 is prose, printed in 3 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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