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.