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Untimely Leave

No more noisy, loud words from me – such is my master’s will.
Henceforth I deal in whispers.
The speech of my heart will be carried on in murmurings of a song.

Men hasten to the King’s market. All the buyers and sellers are there.
But I have my untimely leave in the middle of the day, in the thick of work.

Let then the flowers come out in my garden, though it is not their time;
And let the midday bees strike up their lazy hum.

Full many an hour have I spent in the strife of the good and the evil,
But now it is the pleasure of my playmate of the empty days to draw my heart on to him;
And I know not why is this sudden call to what useless inconsequence!

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Poem Untimely Leave - Rabindranath Tagore