Why did he choose to come to my <br />door, the wandering youth, when the <br />day dawned? <br /> As I come in and out I pass by him <br />every time, and my eyes are caught by <br />his face. <br /> I know not if I should speak to him <br />or keep silent. Why did he choose to <br />come to my door? <br /> The cloudy nights in July are dark; <br />the sky is soft blue in the autumn; the <br />spring days are restless with the south <br />wind. <br /> He weaves his songs with fresh <br />tunes every time. <br /> I turn from my work and my eyes <br />fill with the mist. Why did he choose <br />to come to my door?<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gardener-xxi-why-did-he-choose/
