The Lotus

Love came to Flora asking for a flower

That would of flowers be undisputed queen,

The lily and the rose, long, long had been

Rivals for that high honour. Bards of power

Had sung their claims. "The rose can never tower

Like the pale lily with her Juno mien"--

"But is the lily lovelier?" Thus between

Flower-factions rang the strife in Psyche's bower.

"Give me a flower delicious as the rose

And stately as the lily in her pride"--

"But of what colour?"--"Rose-red," Love first chose,

Then prayed,--"No, lily-white,--or, both provide;"

And Flora gave the lotus, "rose-red" dyed,

And "lily-white,"--the queenliest flower that blows.

By: Toru Dutt

Toru Dutt (March 4, 1856 – August 30, 1877) was an Indian poetess who wrote in English and French. After publication of several translations and literary discussions, she published A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields, a volume of French poems she had translated into English, with Saptahiksambad Press of Bhowanipore, India in 1876. Eight of the poems had been translated by her elder sister Aru. This volume came to the attention of Edmund Gosse in 1877, who reviewed it quite favorably in the Examiner that year. Sheaf would see a second Indian edition in 1878 and a third edition by Kegan Paul of London in 1880, but Dutt lived to see neither of these triumphs. She wrote many poems for the rank and the file.

Baby’s Way

If baby only wanted to, he could fly up to heaven this moment.
It is not for nothing that he does not leave us.
He loves to rest his head on mother's bosom,
and cannot ever bear to lose sight of her.
Baby know all manner of wise words,
though few on earth can understand their meaning.
It is not for nothing that he never wants to speak.
The one thing he wants is to learn mother's words from mother's lips.
That is why he looks so innocent.
Baby had a heap of gold and pearls,
yet he came like a beggar on to this earth.
It is not for nothing he came in such a disguise.
This dear little naked mendicant pretends to be utterly helpless,
so that he may beg for mother's wealth of love.
Baby was so free from every tie in the land of the tiny crescent moon.
It was not for nothing he gave up his freedom.
He knows that there is room for endless joy in mother's little corner of a heart,
and it is sweeter far than liberty to be caught and pressed in her dear arms.
Baby never knew how to cry.
He dwelt in the land of perfect bliss.
It is not for nothing he has chosen to shed tears.
Though with the smile of his dear face
he draws mother's yearning heart to him,
yet his little cries over tiny troubles
weave the double bond of pity and love.

By - Rabindranath Tagore