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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=479945" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lover's Gifts II: Come to My Garden Walk</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=479945" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Come to my garden walk, my love. Pass by the fervid flowers that<br>press themselves on your sight. Pass them by, stopping at some<br>chance joy, which like a sudden wonder of sunset illumines, yet<br>elude.<br> For lover's gift is shy, it never tells its name, it flits<br>across the shade, spreading a shiver of joy along the dust.<br> Overtake it or miss it for ever. But a gift that can be<br>grasped is merely a frail flower, or a lamp with flame that will<br>flicker.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Rabindranath+Tagore">Rabindranath Tagore</a></strong></div>

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