CAPRICE BY SAROJINI NAIDU


YOU held a wild-flower in your finger-tips,
Idly you pressed it to indifferent lips,
Idly you tore its crimson leaves apart, ..
Alas! it was my heart.

You held a wine-cup in your finger-tips,
Lightly you raised it to indifferent lips,
Lightly you drank and flung away the bowl ...
Alas! it was my soul.

Note: From The Golden Treasury of Indo-Anglian Poetry by V.K.Gokak (Editor)



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