Sarojini Naidu

(13 February 1879 - 2 March 1949 / Hyderabad / India)

Sarojini Naidu Poems

1. The Gift of India 2/10/2016
2. The Coromandel Fishers 4/7/2010
3. The Snake Charmer 4/7/2010
4. The Illusion Of Love 4/7/2010
5. To Youth 4/7/2010
6. The Bangle Sellers 4/7/2010
7. The Soul's Prayer 4/7/2010
8. The Poet To Death 1/1/2004
9. To The God Of Pain 1/1/2004
10. The Song Of Princess Zeb-Un-Nissa In Praise Of Her Own Beauty 1/1/2004
11. The Royal Tombs Of Golconda 1/1/2004
12. Transcience 1/3/2003
13. Suttee 1/1/2004
14. Wandering Singers 1/1/2004
15. To My Fairy Fancies 1/1/2004
16. The Pardah Nashin 1/1/2004
17. The Poet's Love-Song 1/3/2003
18. My Dead Dream 1/1/2004
19. To A Buddha Seated On A Lotus 1/1/2004
20. To My Children 1/1/2004
21. Ode To H.H. The Nizam Of Hyderabad 1/1/2004
22. To India 1/1/2004
23. Humayun To Zobeida (From The Urdu) 1/1/2004
24. Song Of A Dream 1/1/2004
25. Past And Future 1/1/2004
26. Nightfall In The City Of Hyderabad 1/1/2004
27. In Praise Of Henna 1/1/2004
28. Indian Love Song 1/1/2004
29. Corn Grinders 1/1/2004
30. Village Song 1/1/2004
31. A Rajput Love Song 1/3/2003
32. The Queen's Rival 1/1/2004
33. Damayante To Nala In The Hour Of Exile 1/1/2004
34. Leili 1/1/2004
35. Indian Dancer 1/1/2004
36. The Indian Gipsy 1/1/2004
37. Harvest Hymn 1/1/2004
38. Street Cries 1/1/2004
39. Life 1/1/2004
40. In The Forest 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Sarojini Naidu

Palanquin Bearers

Lightly, O lightly we bear her along,
She sways like a flower in the wind of our song;
She skims like a bird on the foam of a stream,
She floats like a laugh from the lips of a dream.
Gaily, O gaily we glide and we sing,
We bear her along like a pearl on a string.

Softly, O softly we bear her along,
She hangs like a star in the dew of our song;
She springs like a beam on the brow of the tide,
She falls like a tear from the eyes of a bride.
Lightly, O lightly we glide and we sing,
We bear her along like a pearl on a string.

Read the full of Palanquin Bearers

The Poet To Death

TARRY a while, O Death, I cannot die
While yet my sweet life burgeons with its spring;
Fair is my youth, and rich the echoing boughs
Where dhadikulas sing.


Tarry a while, O Death, I cannot die
With all my blossoming hopes unharvested,
My joys ungarnered, all my songs unsung,

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