The Bangle Sellers

Bangle sellers are we who

Our shining loads to the temple fair...

Who will buy these delicate,

Rainbow-tinted circles of light?

Lustrous tokens of radiant lives,

For happy daughters and happy wives.

Some are meet for a maiden's wrist,

Silver and blue as the mountain mist,

Some are flushed like the buds that

On the tranquil brow of a woodland stream,

Some are aglow wth the bloom that

To the limpid glory of new born

Some are like fields of sunlit corn,

Meet for a bride on her bridal morn,

Some, like the flame of her marriage fire,

Or, rich with the hue of her heart's desire,

Tinkling, luminous, tender, and clear,

Like her bridal laughter and bridal tear.

Some are purple and gold flecked

For she who has journeyed through life midway,

Whose hands have cherished, whose love has blest,

And cradled fair sons on her faithful breast,

And serves her household in fruitful pride,

And worships the gods at her husband's side.