I want to give you something, my child, for we are drifting in the <br />stream of the world. <br /> Our lives will be carried apart, and our love forgotten. <br /> But I am not so foolish as to hope that I could buy your heart <br />with my gifts. <br /> Young is your life, your path long, and you drink the love we <br />bring you at one draught and turn and run away from us. <br /> You have your play and your playmates. What harm is there if <br />you have no time or thought for us! <br /> We, indeed, have leisure enough in old age to count the days <br />that are past, to cherish in our hearts what our hands have lost <br />for ever. <br /> The river runs swift with a song, breaking through all <br />barriers. But the mountain stays and remembers, and follows her <br />with his love.<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gift-2/
