Caprice

Sarojani Naidu
You held a wild flower in your finger tips
Idly you pressed it into indifferent lips
Idly you tore its crimson leaves apart…
Alas! It was my heart.
You held a wine cup in your finger tips
Lightly you raised it to indifferent lips
Lightly you drunk and flung away the bowl…
Alas! It was my soul.