Page:The Bird of Time (Naidu).djvu/59



! do you know the spring is here With the lure of her magic flute? . . . The old earth breaks into passionate bloom At the kiss of her fleet, gay foot. The burgeoning leaves on the almond boughs, And the leaves on the blue wave's breast Are crowned with the limpid and delicate light Of the gems in your turban-crest. The bright pomegranate buds unfold, The frail wild lilies appear, Like the blood-red jewels you used to fling O'er the maidens that danced at the feast of spring To welcome the new-born year.

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