YOUNG leaves grow green on the banyan twigs, And red on the peepul tree, The honey-birds pipe to the budding figs, And honey-blooms call the bee. Poppies squander their fragile gold In the silvery aloe-brake, Coral and ivory lilies unfold Their delicate lives on the lake. Kingfishers ruffle the feathery sedge, And all the vivid air thrills With butterfly-wings in the wild-rose hedge, And the luminous blue of the hills. Kamala tinkles a lingering foot In the grove where temple-bells ring, And Krishna plays on his bamboo flute An idyl of love and spring. |