Magazine : Matrusri English
Language : English
Volume Number : 2
Month : November
Issue Number : 8
Year : 1967

Flowers, Mother, flowers!

I’ve some flowers for you;

 I had none when I first came;

I gathered some on my way to you.

 But Mother, they’re ruddy with rust,

 Their blades are sharp;

 They’ll cut into Thy tender feet,

 I dare not drop them as my offering;

 I’ll stand by your throne,

 These flowers in my hand.

 When it pleases you Mother,

 Pickup the ones you would like to have.

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