THE LITTLE LADY OF THE BULLOCK CART

Now is the time when India is gay

With wedding parties; and the radiant throngs

Seem like a scattered rainbow taking part

In human pleasures. Dressed in bright array,

They fling upon the bride their wreaths of songs -

The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.

Here is the temple ready for the rite:

The large-eyed bullocks halt; and waiting arms

Lift down the bride. All India's curious art

Speaks in the gems with which she is bedight.

And in the robes which hide her sweet alarms -

The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.

This is her day of days: her splendid hour

When joy is hers, though love is all unknown.

It has not dawned upon her childish heart.

But human triumph, in a temporal power,

Has crowned her queen upon a one-day throne -

The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.

Ah, Little Lady! What will be your fate?

So long, so long, the outward-reaching years:

So brief the joy of this elusive part;

So frail the shoulders for the loads that wait:

So bitter salt the virgin widow's tears -

O Little Lady of the Bullock cart.