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| Villege Song / Sarojini Naidu |
HONEY, child, honey, child,
whither are you going?
Would you cast your jewels
all to the breezes blowing?
Would you leave the mother
who on golden grain has fed you?
Would you grieve the lover
who is riding forth to wed you?
Mother mine, to the wild
forest I am going,
Where upon the champa
boughs the champa buds are blowing;
To the kufil-haunted river-isles
where lotus lilies glisten,
The voices of the fairy
folk are calling me: O listen!
Honey, child, honey, child,
the world is full of pleasure,
Of bridal-songs and cradle-songs
and sandal-scented leisure.
Your bridal robes are in the loom,
silver and saffron glowing,
Your bridal cakes are on the hearth:
O whither are you going?
The bridal-songs and cradle-songs
have cadences of sorrow,
The laughter of the sun to-day,
the wind of death to-morrow.
Far sweeter sound the forest-notes
where forest-streams are falling;
O mother mine, I cannot stay,
the fairy-folk are calling.
Villege Song / Sarojini Naidu
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