A KOKILA called from a henna-spray: <br />Lira! liree! Lira! liree! <br />Hasten, maidens, hasten away <br />To gather the leaves of the henna-tree. <br />Send your pitchers afloat on the tide, <br />Gather the leaves ere the dawn be old, <br />Grind them in mortars of amber and gold, <br />The fresh green leaves of the henna-tree. <br /> <br /> <br />A kokila called from a henna-spray: <br />Lira! liree! Lira! liree! <br />Hasten maidens, hasten away <br />To gather the leaves of the henna-tree. <br />The tilka's red for the brow of a bride, <br />And betel-nut's red for lips that are sweet; <br />But, for lily-like fingers and feet, <br />The red, the red of the henna-tree.<br /><br />Sarojini Naidu<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-praise-of-henna/
