THOU HAST given me thy love, filling the world with thy gifts.
They are showered upon me when I do not know them, for my heart is asleep and dark is the night.
Yet though lost in the cavern of my dreams I have been thrilled with fitful gladness;
And I know that in return for the treasure of thy great worlds thou wilt receive from me one little flower of love in the morning when my heart awakes.

অনেক মালা গেঁথেছি মোর
       কুঞ্জতলে,
সকালবেলার অতিথিরা
       পরল গলে।
সন্ধ্যেবেলা কে এল আজ
       নিয়ে ডালা!
গাঁথব কি হায় ঝরা পাতায়
       শুকনো মালা!

IN BABYS world, the trees shake their leaves at him, murmuring verses in an ancient tongue that dates from before the age of meaning, and the moon feigns to be of his own age-the solitary baby of night.
        In the world of the old, flowers dutifully blush at the make-believe of faery legends, and broken dolls confess that they are made of clay.