In Praise Of Henna

 A KOKILA called from a henna-spray: 
Lira! liree! Lira! liree! 
Hasten, maidens, hasten away 
To gather the leaves of the henna-tree.
 
Send your pitchers afloat on the tide, 
Gather the leaves ere the dawn be old, 
Grind them in mortars of amber and gold, 
The fresh green leaves of the henna-tree.



A kokila called from a henna-spray: 
Lira! liree! Lira! liree! 
Hasten maidens, hasten away 
To gather the leaves of the henna-tree.
 
The tilka's red for the brow of a bride, 
And betel-nut's red for lips that are sweet; 
But, for lily-like fingers and feet, 
The red, the red of the henna-tree.

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