Free kindle book and epub digitized and proofread by Project Gutenberg. The Golden Threshold is an off-campus annexe of University of Hyderabad. Contents. 1 History; 2 The Museum; 3 Significance; 4 References. History[edit]. The building was the residence of Sarojini Naidu’s father Aghornath. It was named after Naidu’s collection of poetry. Golden Threshold now houses Sarojini Naidu School of Arts & Communication.

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The Golden Threshold by Sarojini Naidu – Free Ebook

Ah, who will stay these hungry tears, Or still the want of famished years, And bolden with love my marriage-bed? It was the desire of thhreshold that made her a poet; her “nerves of delight” were always quivering at the contact of beauty.

Lord Buddha, on thy Lotus-throne, With praying eyes and hands elate, What mystic rapture dost thou own, Immutable and ultimate? This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, I suppose the greater part of my reading was done between fourteen and sixteen.

For thy dark altars, balm nor milk nor rice, But mine own soul thou’st ta’en for sacrifice: No trivia or quizzes yet. As they seemed to me to have an individual beauty of their own, I thought they ought to be published.

Retrieved 8 February At thirteen I wrote a drama of lines, a full-fledged passionate thing that I began on the spur of the moment without forethought, just to spite my doctor who said I was very ill and must not touch a book. Cotton Gokhale Naoroji R. Humayun to Zobeida My soul burns with the quenchless fire That lit my lover’s funeral pyre: In Italy she watches the faces of the monks, and at one moment longs to attain to their peace by renunciationlongs for Nirvana ; “then, when one comes out again into the hot sunshine that warms one’s blood, and sees the eager hurrying faces of men and women in the street, dramatic faces over which the disturbing experiences of life have passed and left their symbols, one’s heart thrills up into one’s throat.

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The Golden Threshold – Wikisource, the free online library

On his return to India he founded the Nizam College at Hyderabad, and has since laboured incessantly, and at great personal sacrifice, in the cause of education. I have never spoken any other language to him, or to my mother, who always speaks to me in Hindustani. Public domain Public domain false false.


Why have you come hither? And, do you know that the scarlet lilies are woven petal by petal from my heart’s blood, these little quivering birds are my soul made incarnate music, these heavy perfumes are my emotions dissolved into aerial essence, this flaming blue and gold sky is the ‘very me,’ that part of me that incessantly and in- solently, yes, and a little deliberately, triumphs over that other part–a thing of nerves and tissues that suffers and cries out, and that must die to-morrow perhaps, or twenty years hence.

My health broke down permanently about this time, and my regular studies being stopped I read voraciously.

Queen Gulnaar laughed like a tremulous rose: If all Indian politicians are like Mrs. But there was something else, something hardly personal, something which belonged to a thrrshold older than the Christian, which I realised, wondered at, and admired, in her passionate tranquillity of mindbefore which everything mean and golxen and temporary caught fire and burnt away in smoke.

What hope shall we gather, what dreams shall we sow? The frontispiece is reproduced from a drawing by J.

The Golden Threshold by Sarojini Naidu

The serpents are asleep among the poppies, The fireflies light the soundless panther’s way To tangled paths where shy gazelles are straying, And parrot-plumes outshine the dying day. This is not the correct edition for this beautiful page collection printed inso you may have to get yourself to the Portland Public Library to read it.

Naidu naidi said to have asked the nurse attending to her to sing to her at about Lie still, O love, until the morning sows Her tents of gold on fields of ivory. I wrote it down. The Song of Princess Zeb-un-nissa. Sarojini met Paidipati Govindarajulu Naidu, a physician, and at the age of 19, after finishing her studies, she married him. Come, thou subtle bride of my mellifluous wooing, Come, thou silver-breasted moonbeam of desire!

Every one thinks I am so nice and cheerful, so ‘brave,’ all the banal things sarojimi are so comfortable to be. In all her letters, written in exquisite English prose, but with an ardent imagery and a vehement sincerity of emotion which make them, like the poems, indeed almost more directly, un-English, Oriental, there was always this intellectual, critical sarojiini of humour, which could laugh at one’s own enthusiasm as frankly as that enthusiasm had been set down.


Their daughter Paidipati Padmaja also joined the independence movement and was part of the Quit India Movement. The Feather of The Dawn which contained poems written in by Naidu was edited and published posthumously in by her daughter Padmaja Naidu.

Catalog Record: The golden threshold | Hathi Trust Digital Library

Her health deteriorated substantially and bloodletting was performed on the night of 1 March after she complained of severe headache. The author died inso this work is also in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright fhreshold is the author’s life plus 60 years or less. Online books Resources in your library Resources in other libraries.

Lilamani, aetat 1 Limpid jewel of delight Severed from the tender night Of your sheltering mother-mine, Leap and sparkle, dance and shine, Blithely and securely set In love’s magic coronet. In what moonlight-tangled meshes of perfume, Where the clustering keovas guard the squirrel’s slumber, Where the deep woods glimmer with the jasmine’s bloom?

Hasten maidens, hasten away To gather the leaves of the henna-tree. Lord of the Universe, Lord of our beingFather eternal, ineffable Om! Then there was her humour, which was part of her strange wisdomand was always awake and on the watch. IST which put her to sleep. Lord of the rainbow, lord of the harvest, Great and beneficent lord of the main! LEILI The serpents are asleep among the poppies, The fireflies light the soundless panther’s way To tangled paths where shy gazelles are straying, And parrot-plumes outshine the dying day.

Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed, The laughter and beauty of women long dead; The sword of old battles, the crown of old kings, And happy and simple and sorrowful things. She also wrote poetry in praise of Muslim figures gollden Imam Hussain. Disha Gupta rated it really liked it Apr 22, Who shall prevent the subtle years, Or shield a woman’s eyes from tears?

Nitin Bana rated it it was amazing Mar 30, Where the wind calls our wandering footsteps we go. A caste-mark on the azure brows of Heaven, The golden moon burns sacred, solemn, bright The winds are dancing in the forest-temple, And swooning at the holy feet of Night.