Sarojini Naidu - The Song Of Princess Zeb-Un-Nissa In Praise Of Her Own Beauty lyrics

WHEN from my cheek I lift my veil, The roses turn with envy pale, And from their pierced hearts, rich with pain, Send forth their fragrance like a wail. Or if perchance one perfumed tress Be lowered to the wind's caress, The honeyed hyacinths complain, And languish in a sweet distress. And, when I pause, still groves among, (Such loveliness is mine) a throng Of nightingales awake and strain Their souls into a quivering song.