Indian weavers Poem By Sarojini Naidu

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.

Indian Weavers Summary

The ‘Indian Weavers’ summary