And love went forth seeking

The spring was in the air, 

and the young leaves fluttered 
like flames. A gleam danced

in the deer's dark eyes 

when she started, bent her neck 

at the movement of her own shadow, 

or raised her ears to listen 

to some whisper in the wind.

 

The message comes floating 

with the errant breeze, with the rustle 

and glimmer abroad in the April sky. 

It sings of the first ache

of youth in the world, 

when the first flower broke from the bud,

and love went forth seeking 

that which it knew not, 

leaving all it had known.

(Rabindranath Tagore, “The Fugitive”)