INDIAN WEAVERS



by: Sarojini Naidu (1879-1949)
      EAVERS, 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.

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