No more noisy, loud words from me---such is my master's will. <br />Henceforth I deal in whispers. <br />The speech of my heart will be carried on in murmurings of a song. <br /> <br />Men hasten to the King's market. All the buyers and sellers are there. <br />But I have my untimely leave in the middle of the day, in the thick of work. <br /> <br />Let then the flowers come out in my garden, though it is not their time; <br />and let the midday bees strike up their lazy hum. <br /> <br />Full many an hour have I spent in the strife of the good and the evil, <br />but now it is the pleasure of my playmate of the empty days to draw my heart on to him; <br />and I know not why is this sudden call to what useless inconsequence! <br /><br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/untimely-leave/
