The respect and dignity of Indian womanhood lives throuth the names of Sita, Savitri, Draupadi, Damayanti & Shakuntala. Referring their glorious names and comparing them with fragrance of nasturtiums is really an outstanding achievement
"Your(Nasturtiums) leaves interwoven of fragrance and fire
Are Savitri's sorrow and Sita's desire
Draupadi's longing, Damayanti's fears
And sweetest Shakuntala's magical tears.
In praise of Rajput Queen, Rani Padmini of Chittor:
What can rival the valiant joy
Of your dazzling fugitive sheen?
The limpid clouds of the lustrous dawn
That colour the ocean's mien?
Or the blood that poured from a thousand breasts
To succour a Rajput Queen
...In Praise of Gulmohar blossoms
The song of Radha-the Milk maid
These curds that are white as the clouds in the sky
When the breezes of Shravan are blowing?
But my heart was so full of your beauty, beloved
They laughed as I cried without knowing:
Govinda! Govinda!
Govinda! Govinda!
How softly the river was flowing!
The beauty of the Indian village in verse:
A brown quail cries from the tamarisk bushes
A bulbul calls from the cassia-plume
An oxcart stumbles upon the rocks
And awistful music pursues the breeze
From a shepherd's pipe as he gathers his flock
Under the pipal trees
And a young Banjara driving her cattle
Lifts up her voice as she glitters by
In an ancient ballad of love and battle
Set top the best of a mystic tune
And the faint stars gleam in the eastern sky
To herald a rising moon
To the flower girls:
What do you weave, O ye flower girls?
With tassels of azure and red
Crown for the brown of a bridegroom
Chapelts to garland his bed
Sheets of white blossoms new gathered
Tp perfume the sleep of the dead.
"Your(Nasturtiums) leaves interwoven of fragrance and fire
Are Savitri's sorrow and Sita's desire
Draupadi's longing, Damayanti's fears
And sweetest Shakuntala's magical tears.
In praise of Rajput Queen, Rani Padmini of Chittor:
What can rival the valiant joy
Of your dazzling fugitive sheen?
The limpid clouds of the lustrous dawn
That colour the ocean's mien?
Or the blood that poured from a thousand breasts
To succour a Rajput Queen
...In Praise of Gulmohar blossoms
The song of Radha-the Milk maid
These curds that are white as the clouds in the sky
When the breezes of Shravan are blowing?
But my heart was so full of your beauty, beloved
They laughed as I cried without knowing:
Govinda! Govinda!
Govinda! Govinda!
How softly the river was flowing!
The beauty of the Indian village in verse:
A brown quail cries from the tamarisk bushes
A bulbul calls from the cassia-plume
An oxcart stumbles upon the rocks
And awistful music pursues the breeze
From a shepherd's pipe as he gathers his flock
Under the pipal trees
And a young Banjara driving her cattle
Lifts up her voice as she glitters by
In an ancient ballad of love and battle
Set top the best of a mystic tune
And the faint stars gleam in the eastern sky
To herald a rising moon
To the flower girls:
What do you weave, O ye flower girls?
With tassels of azure and red
Crown for the brown of a bridegroom
Chapelts to garland his bed
Sheets of white blossoms new gathered
Tp perfume the sleep of the dead.
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