Hindu Women

Beneath these lusting gods what feminine grace!

Women with vessels held against full breasts,

Walking with queen-like carriage to the place

Where a whole street draws water, hands and wrists

Move carelessly to touch the sleek black hair

Or raise a heavy vessel to the head;

Wearing their single garment with an air

Of swaying gracefulness I once thought dead.

They have not learned the rhythm of pointed heels,

Their sandaled feet are gravely innocent

Of time as measured by revolving wheels;

They touch their palms in greeting, lift cupped hands

And liquid eyes for gifts, not diffident

In raising both in prayer to these gross gods.