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Lovers Gifts XIII: Last Night in the Garden

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Written by Rabindranath Tagore

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 Last night in the garden I offered you my youth's foaming wine.
You lifted the cup to your lips, you shut your eyes and smiled while I raised your veil, unbound your tresses, drawing down upon my breast your face sweet with its silence, last night when the moon's dream overflowed the world of slumber.
To-day in the dew-cooled calm of the dawn you are walking to God's temple, bathed and robed in white, with a basketful of flowers in your hand.
I stand aside in the shade under the tree, with my head bent, in the calm of the dawn by the lonely road to the temple.

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