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User Rating:
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5.7
/10
(46 votes)
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THE serpents are asleep among the poppies,
The fireflies light the soundless panther's way
To tangled paths where shy gazelles are straying,
And parrot-plumes outshine the dying day.
O soft! the lotus-buds upon the stream
Are stirring like sweet maidens when they dream.
A caste-mark on the azure brows of Heaven,
The golden moon burns sacred, solemn, bright
The winds are dancing in the forest-temple,
And swooning at the holy feet of Night.
Hush! in the silence mystic voices sing
And make the gods their incense-offering.
Sarojini Naidu
| Submitted Date |
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Thursday, January 01, 2004 |
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Read poems about / on: silence, moon, dream, heaven, light, night, dance, wind
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