Rabindranath Tagore
Day after day
Day after day he comes and goes away
Go, and give him a flower from my hair, my friend
If he asks who was it that sent it
I entreat you do not tell him my name --
For he only comes and goes away
He sits on the dust under the tree
Spread there a seat with flowers and leaves, my friend
His eyes are sad, and they bring sadness to my heart
He does not speak what he has in mind;
He only comes and goes away