Song of Radha the Milkmaid
I carried my curds to the Mathura fair. . . .How softly the heifers were lowing. . . .I wanted to cry "Who will buy, who will buyThese curds that are white as the clouds in the skyWhen the breezes of Shrawan are blowing?"But my heart was so full of your beauty, Beloved,They laughed as I cried without knowing:Govinda! Govinda!Govinda! Govinda! . . .How softly the river was flowing!
I carried my pots to the Mathura tide. . . .How gaily the rowers were rowing! . . .My comrades called "Ho! let us dance, let us singAnd wear saffron garments to welcome the spring,And pluck the new buds that are blowing."But my heart was so full of your music, Beloved,They mocked when I cried without knowing:Govinda! Govinda!Govinda! Govinda! . . .How gaily the river was flowing!
I carried my gifts to the Mathura shrine. . . .How brightly the torches were glowing! . . .I folded my hands at the altars to pray"O shining Ones guard us by night and by day"—And loudly the conch shells were blowing.But my heart was so lost in your worship, Beloved,They were wroth when I cried without knowing:Govinda! Govinda!Govinda! Govinda! . . .How brightly the river was flowing!
Words in this poem
- lowing n.
- The calling sound made by cows and other bovine animals.
- gaily adv.
- Merrily; showily. See gaily. [From Gay.]
- wroth a.
- Full of wrath; angry; incensed; much exasperated; wrathful. [OE. wroth, wrap, AS. wraedh wroth, crooked, bad; akin to wriedhan to writhe, and to OS. wreedhangry, D. wreed cruel, OHG. reid twisted, Icel. reiedhr angry, Dan]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Song of Radha the Milkmaid is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Bird of Time: Songs of Life, Death & the Spring (London: William Heinemann; New York: John Lane Company, 1912), Wikisource; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Sarojini Naidu, Song of Radha the Milkmaid, in The Bird of Time: Songs of Life, Death & the Spring (1912), text of Wikisource, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/naidu-bird-of-time/song-of-radha-the-milkmaid.html, id L27543.
Form and metre
Song of Radha the Milkmaid is 30 lines in 3 stanzas of 10 lines each. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic pentameter.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -ABBA-ACCA fair · lowingA · buyB · skyB · blowingA · beloved · knowingA · govindaC · govindaC · flowingA
- 2 -ABBA-ACCA tide · rowingA · singB · springB · blowingA · beloved · knowingA · govindaC · govindaC · flowingA
- 3 -ABBA-ACCA shrine · glowingA · prayB · dayB · blowingA · beloved · knowingA · govindaC · govindaC · flowingA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I carried my curds to the Mathura fair. . . . | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| How softly the heifers were lowing. . . . | 9 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| I wanted to cry "Who will buy, who will buy | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| These curds that are white as the clouds in the sky | 11 | ··········· |
| When the breezes of Shrawan are blowing?" | 10 | ··/˘····/˘ |
| But my heart was so full of your beauty, Beloved, | 12 | ········/˘˘/ |
| They laughed as I cried without knowing: | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Govinda! Govinda! | 6 | ······ |
| Govinda! Govinda! . . . | 6 | ······ |
| How softly the river was flowing! | 9 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| I carried my pots to the Mathura tide. . . . | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| How gaily the rowers were rowing! . . . | 9 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| My comrades called "Ho! let us dance, let us sing | 11 | ·/········· |
| And wear saffron garments to welcome the spring, | 11 | ··/˘/˘·/˘·· |
| And pluck the new buds that are blowing." | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| But my heart was so full of your music, Beloved, | 12 | ········/˘˘/ |
| They mocked when I cried without knowing: | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Govinda! Govinda! | 6 | ······ |
| Govinda! Govinda! . . . | 6 | ······ |
| How gaily the river was flowing! | 9 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| I carried my gifts to the Mathura shrine. . . . | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| How brightly the torches were glowing! . . . | 9 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| I folded my hands at the altars to pray | 11 | ·/˘····/˘·· |
| "O shining Ones guard us by night and by day"— | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| And loudly the conch shells were blowing. | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| But my heart was so lost in your worship, Beloved, | 12 | ········/˘˘/ |
| They were wroth when I cried without knowing: | 10 | ········/˘ |
| Govinda! Govinda! | 6 | ······ |
| Govinda! Govinda! . . . | 6 | ······ |
| How brightly the river was flowing! | 9 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.