Wandering Singers
by Sarojini Naidu (1879-1949)
Where the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet,
Through echoing forest and echoing street,
With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam,
All men are our kindred, the world is our home.
Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed,
The laughter and beauty of women long dead;
The sword of old battles, the crown of old kings,
And happy and simple and sorrowful things.
What hope shall we gather, what dreams shall we sow?
Where the wind calls our wandering footsteps we go.
No love bids us tarry, no joy bids us wait:
The voice of the wind is the voice of our fate.
{ 3 comments }
It is utter joy to find Sarojini Naidu’s poem greeting me this morning on your blog. She is one of my favs. Since my birthday is tomorrow, I am going to immodestly think of this as a gift from you !!
Oh, how wonderful! Happy Birthday!!! I’ll pretend like I magically knew this all along!
Love the poem! And Happy Birthday, aliceinwonderland!
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