Page:The Bird of Time (Naidu).djvu/61



can rival your lovely hue O gorgeous boon of the spring? The glimmering red of a bridal robe, Rich red of a wild bird's wing? Or the mystic blaze of the gem that burns On the brow of a serpent-king?

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?

45