All Poems

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At A Funeral

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

I loved her too, this woman who is dead.
Look in my face. I have a right to go
And see the place where you have made her bed
Among the snow.

To My Children

© Sarojini Naidu

Jaya SuryaGOLDEN sun of victory, born
In my life's unclouded morn,
In my lambent sky of love,
May your growing glory prove

Mindful Of You The Sodden Earth

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring,

And all the flowers that in the springtime grow,

To India

© Sarojini Naidu

O YOUNG through all thy immemorial years!
Rise, Mother, rise, regenerate from thy gloom,
And, like a bride high-mated with the spheres,
Beget new glories from thine ageless womb!

The Song Of Princess Zeb-Un-Nissa In Praise Of Her Own Beauty

© Sarojini Naidu

WHEN from my cheek I lift my veil,
The roses turn with envy pale,
And from their pierced hearts, rich with pain,
Send forth their fragrance like a wail.

The Royal Tombs Of Golconda

© Sarojini Naidu

I MUSE among these silent fanes
Whose spacious darkness guards your dust;
Around me sleep the hoary plains
That hold your ancient wars in trust.

A New Year's Time At Willards's

© James Whitcomb Riley

There's old man Willards; an' his wife;
An' Marg'et-- S'repty's sister--; an'
There's me-- an' I'm the hired man;
An' Tomps McClure, you better yer life!

The Pardah Nashin

© Sarojini Naidu

HER life is a revolving dream
Of languid and sequestered ease;
Her girdles and her fillets gleam
Like changing fires on sunset seas;
Her raiment is like morning mist,
Shot opal, gold and amethyst.

The Holly-Tree

© Robert Southey

O reader! hast thou ever stood to see
The Holly-tree?
The eye that contemplates it well perceives
Its glossy leaves
Ordered by an Intelligence so wise
As might confound the Atheist's sophistries.

IN tattered robes that hoard a glittering trace
Of bygone colours, broidered to the knee,
Behold her, daughter of a wandering race,
Tameless, with the bold falcon's agile grace,
And the lithe tiger's sinuous majesty.

The Past

© Louisa Stuart Costello

I have number'd all the sorrows this tortured heart has
known;
I have counted each delight I would ever call my own;
But the moments are so woven, that the guiding clew is
gone,
And the sorrow and the pleasure blended into one.

Suttee

© Sarojini Naidu

LAMP of my life, the lips of Death
Hath blown thee out with their sudden breath;
Naught shall revive thy vanished spark . . .
Love, must I dwell in the living dark?

To A Happy Warrior

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Glory to God who made a man like this!
To God be praise who in the empty heaven
Set Earth's gay globe
With its green vesture given

Song Of A Dream

© Sarojini Naidu

ONCE in the dream of a night I stood
Lone in the light of a magical wood,
Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang;
And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang,

To A Critic

Song hath a catalogue of lovely things

Thy kind hath oft defiled,--whose spite misleads

Past and Future

The new hath come and now the old retires:
And so the past becomes a mountain-cell,
Where lone, apart, old hermit-memories dwell
In consecrated calm, forgotten yet
Of the keen heart that hastens to forget
Old longings in fulfilling new desires.