Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

CreationEarth Nature Photos

Best Famous Sarojini Naidu Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Sarojini Naidu poems. This is a select list of the best famous Sarojini Naidu poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Sarojini Naidu poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of sarojini naidu poems.

Search for the best famous Sarojini Naidu poems, articles about Sarojini Naidu poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Sarojini Naidu poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See also:

Famous poems below this ad
Written by Sarojini Naidu |

To My Children

 Jaya Surya

GOLDEN sun of victory, born 
In my life's unclouded morn, 
In my lambent sky of love, 
May your growing glory prove 
Sacred to your consecration, 
To my heart and to my nation.
Sun of victory, may you be Sun of song and liberty.
Padmaja Lotus-maiden, you who claim All the sweetness of your name, Lakshmi, fortune's queen, defend you, Lotus-born like you, and send you Balmy moons of love to bless you, Gentle joy-winds to caress you.
Lotus-maiden, may you be Fragrant of all ecstasy.
Ranadheera Little lord of battle, hail In your newly-tempered mail! Learn to conquer, learn to fight In the foremost flanks of right, Like Valmiki's heroes bold, Rubies girt in epic gold.
Lord of battle, may you be, Lord of love and chivalry.
Lilamani Limpid jewel of delight Severed from the tender night Of your sheltering mother-mine, Leap and sparkle, dance and shine, Blithely and securely set In love's magic coronet.
Living jewel, may you be Laughter-bound and sorrow-free.

Written by Sarojini Naidu |


 CHILDREN, ye have not lived, to you it seems 
Life is a lovely stalactite of dreams, 
Or carnival of careless joys that leap 
About your hearts like billows on the deep 
In flames of amber and of amethyst.
Children, ye have not lived, ye but exist Till some resistless hour shall rise and move Your hearts to wake and hunger after love, And thirst with passionate longing for the things That burn your brows with blood-red sufferings.
Till ye have battled with great grief and fears, And borne the conflict of dream-shattering years, Wounded with fierce desire and worn with strife, Children, ye have not lived: for this is life.

Written by Sarojini Naidu |

Harvest Hymn

 Mens Voices:

LORD of the lotus, lord of the harvest, 
Bright and munificent lord of the morn! 
Thine is the bounty that prospered our sowing, 
Thine is the bounty that nurtured our corn.
We bring thee our songs and our garlands for tribute, The gold of our fields and the gold of our fruit; O giver of mellowing radiance, we hail thee, We praise thee, O Surya, with cymbal and flute.
Lord of the rainbow, lord of the harvest, Great and beneficent lord of the main! Thine is the mercy that cherished our furrows, Thine is the mercy that fostered our grain.
We bring thee our thanks and our garlands for tribute, The wealth of our valleys, new-garnered and ripe; O sender of rain and the dewfall, we hail thee, We praise thee, Varuna, with cymbal and pipe.
Womens Voices: Queen of the gourd-flower, queen of the har- vest, Sweet and omnipotent mother, O Earth! Thine is the plentiful bosom that feeds us, Thine is the womb where our riches have birth.
We bring thee our love and our garlands for tribute, With gifts of thy opulent giving we come; O source of our manifold gladness, we hail thee, We praise thee, O Prithvi, with cymbal and drum.
All Voices: Lord of the Universe, Lord of our being, Father eternal, ineffable Om! Thou art the Seed and the Scythe of our harvests, Thou art our Hands and our Heart and our Home.
We bring thee our lives and our labours for tribute, Grant us thy succour, thy counsel, thy care.
O Life of all life and all blessing, we hail thee, We praise thee, O Bramha, with cymbal and prayer

More great poems below...

Written by Sarojini Naidu |

Past and Future

 The new hath come and now the old retires: 
And so the past becomes a mountain-cell, 
Where lone, apart, old hermit-memories dwell 
In consecrated calm, forgotten yet 
Of the keen heart that hastens to forget 
Old longings in fulfilling new desires.
And now the Soul stands in a vague, intense Expectancy and anguish of suspense, On the dim chamber-threshold .
lo! he sees Like a strange, fated bride as yet unknown, His timid future shrinking there alone, Beneath her marriage-veil of mysteries.

Written by Sarojini Naidu |

An Indian Love Song


Lift up the veils that darken the delicate moon 
of thy glory and grace,
Withhold not, O love, from the night 
of my longing the joy of thy luminous face,
Give me a spear of the scented keora 
guarding thy pinioned curls, 
Or a silken thread from the fringes 
that trouble the dream of thy glimmering pearls;
Faint grows my soul with thy tresses' perfume 
and the song of thy anklets' caprice,
Revive me, I pray, with the magical nectar 
that dwells in the flower of thy kiss.
She How shall I yield to the voice of thy pleading, how shall I grant thy prayer, Or give thee a rose-red silken tassel, a scented leaf from my hair? Or fling in the flame of thy heart's desire the veils that cover my face, Profane the law of my father's creed for a foe of my father's race? Thy kinsmen have broken our sacred altars and slaughtered our sacred kine, The feud of old faiths and the blood of old battles sever thy people and mine.
He What are the sins of my race, Beloved, what are my people to thee? And what are thy shrines, and kine and kindred, what are thy gods to me? Love recks not of feuds and bitter follies, of stranger, comrade or kin, Alike in his ear sound the temple bells and the cry of the muezzin.
For Love shall cancel the ancient wrong and conquer the ancient rage, Redeem with his tears the memoried sorrow that sullied a bygone age.

Written by Sarojini Naidu |

Autumn Song

 Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
 The sunset hangs on a cloud;
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,
Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,
 The wild wind blows in a cloud.
Hark to a voice that is calling To my heart in the voice of the wind: My heart is weary and sad and alone, For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, And why should I stay behind?

Written by Sarojini Naidu |

Indian Weavers

 WEAVERS, 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.

Written by Sarojini Naidu |

Street Cries

 WHEN dawn's first cymbals beat upon the sky, 
Rousing the world to labour's various cry, 
To tend the flock, to bind the mellowing grain, 
From ardent toil to forge a little gain, 
And fasting men go forth on hurrying feet, 
Buy bread, buy bread, rings down the eager street.
When the earth falters and the waters swoon With the implacable radiance of noon, And in dim shelters koïls hush their notes, And the faint, thirsting blood in languid throats Craves liquid succour from the cruel heat, Buy fruit, buy fruit, steals down the panting street.
When twilight twinkling o'er the gay bazaars, Unfurls a sudden canopy of stars, When lutes are strung and fragrant torches lit On white roof-terraces where lovers sit Drinking together of life's poignant sweet, Buy flowers, buy flowers, floats down the singing street.

Written by Sarojini Naidu |

To India

 O YOUNG through all thy immemorial years! 
Rise, Mother, rise, regenerate from thy gloom, 
And, like a bride high-mated with the spheres, 
Beget new glories from thine ageless womb!

The nations that in fettered darkness weep 
Crave thee to lead them where great mornings break .
Mother, O Mother, wherefore dost thou sleep? Arise and answer for thy children's sake! Thy Future calls thee with a manifold sound To crescent honours, splendours, victories vast; Waken, O slumbering Mother and be crowned, Who once wert empress of the sovereign Past.

Written by Sarojini Naidu |

My Dead Dream

 HAVE YOU found me, at last, O my Dream? Seven eons ago 
You died and I buried you deep under forests of snow.
Why have you come hither? Who bade you awake from your sleep And track me beyond the cerulean foam of the deep? Would you tear from my lintels these sacred green garlands of leaves? Would you scare the white, nested, wild pigeons of joy from my eaves? Would you touch and defile with dead fingers the robes of my priest? Would you weave your dim moan with the chantings of love at my feast? Go back to your grave, O my Dream, under forests of snow, Where a heart-riven child hid you once, seven eons ago.
Who bade you arise from your darkness? I bid you depart! Profane not the shrines I have raised in the clefts of my heart.

Written by Sarojini Naidu |

Coromandel Fishers

 Rise, brothers, rise; the wakening skies pray to the morning light, 
The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn like a child that has cried all night.
Come, let us gather our nets from the shore and set our catamarans free, To capture the leaping wealth of the tide, for we are the kings of the sea! No longer delay, let us hasten away in the track of the sea gull's call, The sea is our mother, the cloud is our brother, the waves are our comrades all.
What though we toss at the fall of the sun where the hand of the sea-god drives? He who holds the storm by the hair, will hide in his breast our lives.
Sweet is the shade of the cocoanut glade, and the scent of the mango grove, And sweet are the sands at the full o' the moon with the sound of the voices we love; But sweeter, O brothers, the kiss of the spray and the dance of the wild foam's glee; Row, brothers, row to the edge of the verge, where the low sky mates with the sea.

Written by Sarojini Naidu |

A Rajput Love Song

 (Parvati at her lattice)
O Love! were you a basil-wreath to twine 
among my tresses,
A jewelled clasp of shining gold to bind around my sleeve,
O Love! were you the keora's soul that haunts 
my silken raiment,
A bright, vermilion tassel in the girdles that I weave;

O Love! were you the scented fan 
that lies upon my pillow,
A sandal lute, or silver lamp that burns before my shrine,
Why should I fear the jealous dawn 
that spreads with cruel laughter,
Sad veils of separation between your face and mine?

Haste, O wild-bee hours, to the gardens of the sun set!
Fly, wild-parrot day, to the orchards of the west!
Come, O tender night, with your sweet, 
consoling darkness,
And bring me my Beloved to the shelter of my breast!

(Amar Singh in the saddle)
O Love! were you the hooded hawk upon my hand 
that flutters,
Its collar-band of gleaming bells atinkle as I ride,
O Love! were you a turban-spray or 
floating heron-feather,
The radiant, swift, unconquered sword 
that swingeth at my side;

O Love! were you a shield against the 
arrows of my foemen,
An amulet of jade against the perils of the way,
How should the drum-beats of the dawn 
divide me from your bosom,
Or the union of the midnight be ended with the day?

Haste, O wild-deer hours, to the meadows of the sunset!
Fly, wild stallion day, to the pastures of the west!
Come, O tranquil night, with your soft, 
consenting darkness,
And bear me to the fragrance of my Beloved's breast!

Written by Sarojini Naidu |

Humayun To Zobeida (From the Urdu)

 You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn, 
Your sweetness in the nightingale, your white- ness in the swan.
You haunt my waking like a dream, my slumber like a moon, Pervade me like a musky scent, possess me like a tune.
Yet, when I crave of you, my sweet, one tender moment's grace, You cry, "I sit behind the veil, I cannot show my face.
" Shall any foolish veil divide my longing from my bliss? Shall any fragile curtain hide your beauty from my kiss? What war is this of Thee and Me? Give o'er the wanton strife, You are the heart within my heart, the life within my life.

Written by Sarojini Naidu |

To A Buddha Seated On A Lotus

 LORD BUDDHA, on thy Lotus-throne, 
With praying eyes and hands elate, 
What mystic rapture dost thou own, 
Immutable and ultimate? 
What peace, unravished of our ken, 
Annihilate from the world of men? 

The wind of change for ever blows 
Across the tumult of our way, 
To-morrow's unborn griefs depose 
The sorrows of our yesterday.
Dream yields to dream, strife follows strife, And Death unweaves the webs of Life.
For us the travail and the heat, The broken secrets of our pride, The strenuous lessons of defeat, The flower deferred, the fruit denied; But not the peace, supremely won, Lord Buddha, of thy Lotus-throne.
With futile hands we seek to gain Our inaccessible desire, Diviner summits to attain, With faith that sinks and feet that tire; But nought shall conquer or control The heavenward hunger of our soul.
The end, elusive and afar, Still lures us with its beckoning flight, And all our mortal moments are A session of the Infinite.
How shall we reach the great, unknown Nirvana of thy Lotus-throne?

Written by Sarojini Naidu |


 Cover mine eyes, O my Love! 
Mine eyes that are weary of bliss 
As of light that is poignant and strong 
O silence my lips with a kiss, 
My lips that are weary of song! 
Shelter my soul, O my love! 
My soul is bent low with the pain 
And the burden of love, like the grace 
Of a flower that is smitten with rain: 
O shelter my soul from thy face!