Lest I should know you too easily, you play with me.
You blind me with flashes of laughter to hide your tears.
I know, I know your art.
You never say the word you would.
Lest I should not prize you, you elude me in a thousand ways.
Lest I should confuse you with the crowd, you stand aside.
I know, I know your art.
You never walk the path you would.
Your claim is more than that of others, that is why you are silent.
With playful carelessness you avoid my gifts.
I know, I know your art.
You never will take what you would.
The Gardener 36
He whispered,“My love, raise your eyes.”
I sharply chid him, and said“Go!”; but he did not stir.
He stood before me and held both my hands. I said,“Leave me!”; but he did not go.
He brought his face near my ear.I glanced at him and said,“What a shame!”;but he did not move.
His lips touched my cheek. I trembled and said,“You dare too much”; but he had no shame.
He put a flower in my hair. I said,“It is useless!”; but he stood unmoved.
He took the garland from my neck and went away. I weep and ask my heart,“Why does he not come back?”
The Gardener 37
Would you put your wreath of fresh flowers on my neck, fair one?
But you must know that the one wreath that I had woven is for the many, for those who are seen in glimpses, or dwell in lands unexplored, or live in poets’ songs.
It is too late to ask my heart in return for yours.