by: Sarojini Naidu (1879-1949)
- IKE a serpent
to the calling voice of flutes,
Glides my heart into thy fingers, O my Love!
Where the night-wind, like a lover, leans above
His jasmine-gardens and sirisha-bowers;
And on ripe boughs of many-coloured fruits
Bright parrots cluster like vermilion flowers.
- Like the perfume in the petals of a rose,
Hides thy heart within my bosom, O my love!
Like a garland, like a jewel, like a dove
That hangs its nest in the asoka-tree.
Lie still, O love, until the morning sows
Her tents of gold on fields of ivory.
POEMS BY SAROJINI NAIDU
"Indian Love-Song" is
reprinted from The Golden Threshold. Sarojini Naidu. New
York: John Lane Company, 1916.