Men say the world is full of fear and hate,
And all life’s ripening harvest-fields await
The restless sickle of relentless fate.
But I, sweet Soul, rejoice that I was born,
When from the climbing terraces of corn
I watch the golden orioles of Thy morn.
What care I for the world’s desire and pride,
Who know the silver wings that gleam and glide,
The homing pigeons of Thine eventide?
What care I for the world’s loud weariness,
Who dream in twilight granaries Thou dost bless
With delicate sheaves of mellow silences?
Say, shall I heed dull presages of doom,
Or dread the rumoured loneliness and gloom,
The mute and mythic terror of the tomb?
For my glad heart is drunk and drenched with Thee,
O inmost wind of living ecstasy!
O intimate essence of eternity!
(Sarojini Naidu)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, World Poems, Sadness Poems, Soul Poems, Fear Poems, Fate & Destiny Poems, Pride Poems, Eternity Poems, Silver Poems, Hatred PoemsBased on Keywords: silences, eventide, ripening, loneliness, sickle, presages, terraces, mythic, homing, granaries, orioles