Rabindranath Tagore – The Gardener 4

Ah me, why did they build my

house by the road to the market

town?

They moor their laden boats near

my trees.

They come and go and wander at

their will.

I sit and watch them; my time

wears on.

Turn them away I cannot. And

thus my days pass by.

Night and day their steps sound

by my door.

Vainly I cry, "I do not know

you."

Some of them are known to my

fingers, some to my nostrils, the

blood in my veins seems to know

them, and some are known to my

dreams.

Turn them away I cannot. I call

them and say, "Come to my house

whoever chooses. Yes, come."

In the morning the bell rings in the

temple.

They come with their baskets in

their hands.

Their feet are rosy red. The early

light of dawn is on their faces.

Turn them away I cannot. I call

them and I say, "Come to my garden

to gather flowers. Come hither."

In the mid-day the gong sounds

at the palace gate.

I know not why they leave their

work and linger near my hedge.

The flowers in their hair are pale

and faded; the notes are languid in

their flutes.

Turn them away I cannot. I call

them and say, "The shade is cool

under my trees. Come, friends."

At night the crickets chirp in the

woods.

Who is it that comes slowly to my

door and gently knocks?

I vaguely see the face, not a word

is spoken, the stillness of the sky is

all around.

Turn away my silent guest I

cannot. I look at the face through the

dark, and hours of dreams pass by.

Mary Elizabeth Coleridge – The Witch

I HAVE walked a great while over the snow,
And I am not tall nor strong.
My clothes are wet, and my teeth are set,
And the way was hard and long.
I have wandered over the fruitful earth,
But I never came here before.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!

The cutting wind is a cruel foe.
I dare not stand in the blast.
My hands are stone, and my voice a groan,
And the worst of death is past.
I am but a little maiden still,
My little white feet are sore.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!

Her voice was the voice that women have,
Who plead for their heart's desire.
She came--she came--and the quivering flame
Sunk and died in the fire.
It never was lit again on my hearth
Since I hurried across the floor,
To lift her over the threshold, and let her in at the door.

Rabindranath Tagore – The Gardener 9

When I go alone at night to my

love-tryst, birds do not sing, the wind

does not stir, the houses on both sides

of the street stand silent.

It is my own anklets that grow loud

at every step and I am ashamed.

When I sit on my balcony and listen

for his footsteps, leaves do not rustle

on the trees, and the water is still in

the river like the sword on the knees

of a sentry fallen asleep.

It is my own heart that beats wildly

--I do not know how to quiet it.

When my love comes and sits by

my side, when my body trembles and

my eyelids droop, the night darkens,

the wind blows out the lamp, and the

clouds draw veils over the stars.

It is the jewel at my own breast

that shines and gives light. I do not

know how to hide it.

John Keats – To Sleep

O soft embalmer of the still midnight!

Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,

Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,

Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;

O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,

In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes.

Or wait the Amen, ere thy poppy throws

Around my bed its lulling charities;

Then save me, or the passed day will shine

Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;

Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards

Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;

Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,

And seal the hushed casket of my soul.

Edgar Allan Poe – Hymn

At morn- at noon- at twilight dim-

Maria! thou hast heard my hymn!

In joy and woe- in good and ill-

Mother of God, be with me still!

When the hours flew brightly by,

And not a cloud obscured the sky,

My soul, lest it should truant be,

Thy grace did guide to thine and thee;

Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast

Darkly my Present and my Past,

Let my Future radiant shine

With sweet hopes of thee and thine!