Village Song By Sarojini Naidu

Honey, child, honey, child, whither are you
going?
Would you cast your jewels all to the breezes
blowing?
Would you leave the mother who on golden
grain has fed you?
Would you grieve the lover who is riding forth
to wed you?

Mother mine, to the wild forest I am going,
Where upon the champa boughs the champa
buds are blowing;
To the koil-haunted river-isles where lotus lilies
glisten,
The voices of the fairy folk are calling me:
O listen!

Honey, child, honey, child, the world is full of
pleasure,
Of bridal-songs and cradle-songs and sandal-
scented leisure.
Your bridal robes are in the loom, silver and
saffron glowing,
Your bridal cakes are on the hearth: O whither
are you going?

The bridal-songs and cradle-songs have cadences
of sorrow,
The laughter of the sun to-day, the wind of
death to-morrow.
Far sweeter sound the forest-notes where forest-
streams are falling;
O mother mine, I cannot stay, the fairy-folk
are calling.

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