Leaving the Fair

Leaving the Fair. © Chris Bronsk 2015.

Love came
Upon such silent feet,
She seemed a dream:
I offered her no seat.
But when she stirred
To part the door and leave, I heard
And ran to call her back.
By then she was an incorporeal dream
Lost in the night; the gleam
Of her lamp-flame, on the road far ahead
A mirage blood-red.

—Rabindranath Tagore

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