SPRING THAT IN MY COURTYARD
Reading edition
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.