In tattered robes that hoard a glittering trace <br />Of bygone colours, broidered to the knee, <br />Behold her, daughter of a wandering race, <br />Tameless, with the bold falcon's agile grace, <br />And the lithe tiger's sinuous majesty. <br /> <br />With frugal skill her simple wants she tends, <br />She folds her tawny heifers and her sheep <br />On lonely meadows when the daylight ends, <br />Ere the quick night upon her flock descends <br />Like a black panther from the caves of sleep. <br /> <br />Time's river winds in foaming centuries <br />Its changing, swift, irrevocable course <br />To far off and incalculable seas; <br />She is twin-born with primal mysteries, <br />And drinks of life at Time's forgotten source<br /><br />Sarojini Naidu<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-indian-gipsy/
