Bangle
sellers are we who bear
Our
shining loads to the temple fair...
Who
will buy these delicate, bright
Rainbow-tinted
circles of light?
Lustrous
tokens of radiant lives,
For
happy daughters and happy wives.
Some
are meet for a maiden's wrist,
Silver
and blue as the mountain mist,
Some
are flushed like the buds that dream
On
the tranquil brow of a woodland stream,
Some
are aglow with the bloom that cleaves
To
the limpid glory of new born leaves
Some
are like fields of sunlit corn,
Meet
for a bride on her bridal morn,
Some,
like the flame of her marriage fire,
Or,
rich with the hue of her heart's desire,
Tinkling,
luminous, tender, and clear,
Like
her bridal laughter and bridal tear.
Some
are purple and gold flecked grey
For
she who has journeyed through life midway,
Whose
hands have cherished, whose love has blest,
And
cradled fair sons on her faithful breast,
And
serves her household in fruitful pride,
And
worships the gods at her husband's side.
__Sarojini Naidu.
