WEAVERS, weaving at break of day, <br />Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . . <br />Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild, <br />We weave the robes of a new-born child. <br /> <br /> <br />Weavers, weaving at fall of night, <br />Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . . <br />Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green, <br />We weave the marriage-veils of a queen. <br /> <br /> <br />Weavers, weaving solemn and still, <br />What do you weave in the moonlight chill? . . . <br />White as a feather and white as a cloud, <br />We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.<br /><br />Sarojini Naidu<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/indian-weavers/
