Come to My Garden Walk.




Come to My Garden Walk. :



Come to my garden walk, my love. Pass by the fervid flowers that

press themselves on your sight. Pass them by, stopping at some

chance joy, which like a sudden wonder of sunset illumines, yet elude.


For lover's gift is shy, it never tells its name, it flits
across the shade, spreading a shiver of joy along the dust.


Overtake it or miss it for ever. But a gift that can be
grasped is merely a frail flower, or a lamp with flame that will flicker.


Rabindranath Tagore


Come to My Garden Walk. :






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