TO A DEAR FRIEND

I hold her hands and press her to my
breast.    
I try to fill my arms with her loveli-
ness, to plunder her sweet smile with
kisses, to drink her dark glances with
my eyes.   
  Ah, but, where is it? Who can
strain the blue from the sky?    
 I try to grasp the beauty; it eludes
me, leaving only the body in my
hands.    
 Baffled and weary I come back.   
  How can the body touch the flower
which only the spirit may touch?
                                             Rabindranat Tagore