Bring CHAMPA from the bower,
Fresh blown and of a golden dye; inweave
Gay APRAJITA of the richest blue,
That rivals Beauty's eyes when lit by Love
First dawning. BELH too,—sweet BELA cull,
That blooms in virgin loveliness serene,
And with it twine ambrosial JANTI fair
Whose fragrance well may vie with PARIJAT
Of Indra's bower. Forget not NAGESHUR,
The Love-God's fav'rite; for with that he tips
This flowery shaft, and him the world obeys:
With these in clusters bright ASOKA braid,
—A charm 'gainst broken hearts and sorrow's pangs,—
And GUNDHARAJ that sends its frankincense
Afar; then gather sweet SAPHALIKA,
That blooms and falls at eventide, nor waits
It e'er the Day-God's ardent looks to meet,
Like maids who coyly shun each wanton gaze;
And RAJNI-GANDHA, that expands at night
Alone, and like a lover's vow doth breathe
Its odour rich in secret. There—'tis done,
The wreath's complete, an offering rich and rare,
Fit to adorn the forehead of the fair.