Who are you, reader, reading my poems an
hundred years hence?
I cannot send one single flower from this wealth
of the spring, one single streak of gold
from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
From your blossoming garden gather
fragrant memories of the vanished flowers
of an hundred years before.
The Gardener, 1913, verse 85
So subtle, so powerful.
Lovely…deceptive…I MIS-read it at first; but now I recognize the hidden, then revealed, truth…
One of the free books I’ve downloaded onto my iPad is The Gardener, which I am about halfway through. Also, some time ago I quoted from Tagore’s book Creative Unity, again downloaded for free. Wonderful stuff, and now, over to your other post on R.T.