The Gardener :  I plucked your flower.



The Gardener : I plucked your flower.


I plucked your flower, O world!
I pressed it to my heart and the
thorn pricked.
When the day waned and it
darkened, I found that the flower had
faded, but the pain remained.
More flowers will come to you with
perfume and pride, O world!
But my time for flower-gathering
is over, and through the dark night
I have not my rose, only the pain
remains.


BY Rabindranath Tagore

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The Gardener : I plucked your flower.





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