Spring

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.