The rain brings out the best in poets, especially among the poets of the subcontinent. For in countries where the winter means desolation, snow and staying indoors, the rain is often seen as another form of desolation. The monsoon in India, on the other hand, is a much awaited phenomenon. Its arrival after a burning, humid frying of summer is considered as a blessing, a calming coolness over scalding tempers.
Many poets have waxed eloquent over the monsoon; let us conclude with one by a poetess who was known for choosing general subjects, this poem is an exception:
by Sarojini Naidu
Cover mine eyes, O my Love!
Mine eyes that are weary of bliss
As of light that is poignant and strong
O silence my lips with a kiss,
My lips that are weary of song!
Shelter my soul, O my love!
My soul is bent low with the pain
And the burden of love, like the grace
Of a flower that is smitten with rain:
O shelter my soul from thy face!