Indian Weavers by Sarojini Naidu

WEAVERS, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,
We weave the robes of a new-born child.

Weavers, weaving at fall of night,
Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . .
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green,
We weave the marriage-veils of a queen.

Weavers, weaving solemn and still,
What do you weave in the moonlight chill? . . .
White as a feather and white as a cloud,
We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.

by Sarojini Naidu

Other poems by 'Sarojini Naidu'

Corn Grinders

Coromandel Fishers

Cradle Song

Damayante To Nala In The Hour Of Exile

Ecstasy

Harvest Hymn

Humayun To Zobeida

In Praise Of Henna

In Salutation to the Eternal Peace

In The Forest

Search Poems
e.g. love, marriage, kids

Popular poems this week

In Silence We Left

The Lost Dances of Cranes

The Author to her Book

Summer Evening

The Lesson

A chilly Peace infests the Grass

To Mæcenas

You Fit Into Me

mr youse needn't be so spry..

Oh, honey of an hour