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.
Indian Weavers
About the poet
Sarojini Naidu
Sarojini Naidu (née Chattopadhyay; 13 February 1879 – 2 March 1949) was an Indian political activist and poet. A proponent of civil rights, women's emancipation, and anti-imperialistic ideas, she was an important figure in India's struggle for independence fr…
View profile & all 7 Poems / StoriesMore from Sarojini Naidu
Palanquin Bearers
Lightly, O lightly we bear her along,She sways like a flower in the wind of our song;
Autumn Song
Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,The sunset hangs on a cloud;
Coromandel Fishers
Rise, brothers, rise; the wakening skies pray to the morning light,The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn like a child that has cried all night.
An Indian Love Song
HeLift up the veils that darken the delicate moon
A Love Song From The North
Tell me no more of thy love, papeeha,Wouldst thou recall to my heart, papeeha,
