Tired of waiting, you burst your bonds, impatient flowers, before <br />the winter had gone. Glimpses of the unseen comer reached your <br />wayside watch, and you rushed out running and panting, impulsive <br />jasmines, troops of riotous roses. <br /> You were the first to march to the breach of death, your <br />clamour of colour and perfume troubled the air. You laughed and <br />pressed and pushed each other, bared your breast and dropped in <br />heaps. <br /> The Summer will come in its time, sailing in the flood-tide <br />of the south wind. But you never counted slow moments to be sure <br />of him. You recklessly spent your all in the road, in the terrible <br />joy of faith. <br /> You heard his footsteps from afar, and flung your mantle of <br />death for him to tread upon. Your bonds break even before the <br />rescuer is seen, you make him your own ere he can come and claim <br />you.<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lover-s-gifts-lii-tired-of-waiting/
