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.
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Comments
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From guest Dr Abhishek Tiwari (contact)
Through the metaphor of weaver, the philosopher poetess wants to assert the femme fatale role of the eternal diety presiding over the universe. His Highness has been depicted in His three forms of Bramha, the creator,Vishnu, the preserver, and terrible Rudra, the destroyer. -
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To guest Tasneem
I think the poet Sarojini Naidu has highlighted the most impirtant garment at the three importants stages of a person's life.
Birth - Marriage - Death
Jim
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