WHEN dawn's first cymbals beat upon the sky,
Rousing the world to labour's various cry,
To tend the flock, to bind the mellowing grain,
From ardent toil to forge a little gain,
And fasting men go forth on hurrying feet,
Buy bread, buy bread, rings down the eager street.
When the earth falters and the waters swoon
With the implacable radiance of noon,
And in dim shelters koyals hush their notes,
And the faint, thirsting blood in languid throats
Craves liquid succour from the cruel heat,
Buy fruit, buy fruit, steals down the panting street.
When twilight twinkling o'er the gay bazaars,
Unfurls a sudden canopy of stars,
When lutes are strung and fragrant torches lit
On white roof-terraces where lovers sit
Drinking together of life's poignant sweet,
Buy flowers, buy flowers, floats down the singing street.
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Comments
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Superlative
From guest Prabhu (contact)
How beautifully written, I never knew Sarojini Naidu was such a great poetess. I really admire how the moods of the street changes as the day progresses. Very carefully chosen words makes this poetry superlative. -
interpretation
From guest Florence N. Limon (contact)
how can i interpret this poem? it seems to be very difficult. i dont know -
what is this about?
From guest gemma marie samson (contact)
this was assigned to me by my world literature teacher. i was tasked to analyze the figures of speech used in the poem as well as its mood. can you help me with this problem? -
This melodious poem is about the cries in the streets of Hyderabad and how they change through the day. The street vendors walk down the streets calling out their wares.
As a child much after Mrs. Naidus days I remember sitting on the window seat looking through the window at the squeaking rickshaws passing in the days heat. The few cars belonged to the nawabs the Nobles of the Nizam's court. It was a time of grace and beauty and great serenity. small whitewashed houses built around courtyards, greater Havelis and Dewris (mansions) of the nobles and the Nizams many palaces. the beauty of the sun setting behind the domes of the Osmania Hospital is a sight that moves me till today.
The street cries of Munjal, Sapota, Motia, etc echo from a time that the world forgot.
Sarojini Naidu who lived in those times of grace does true justice to Hyderabad in her most mellifluous words in her poems always a delight to read.
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