INDIAN WEAVERS

by: Sarojini Naidu (1879-1949)

EAVERS, 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.