An excerpt from 'Harvest Hymn' in which farmers express their gratitude to the Sun.

Lord of the Lotus, Lord of the harvest
Bright and munificent lord of the morn !
Thine is the bounty that prospered our sowing,
Thine is the bounty that nurtured our corn.
We bring thee our songs and our garlands for tribute,
The gold of our fields and the gold of our fruit;
O giver of mellowing radiance, we hail thee,
We praise thee O Surya, with cymbal and flute.

Her simplicity is evident in the paragraph of June Sunset:

A brown quail cries from the tamarisk bushes,
A bulbul calls from the Cassia plume,
And thro' the wet earth the gentian pushes
Her spikes of silvery bloom.
Where'er the foot of the bright shower passes
Fragrant and fresh delights unfold;
The wild fawns feed on the scented glasses,
Wild bees on the cactus - gold.

The luminosity and reserve are seen reaching to the mastery in To a Buddha Seated on a Lotus :

With futile hand we seek to gain
Our inaccessible desire,
Diviner summits to attain,
With faith that sinks and felt that tire;
But naught shall conquer or control
The heavenward hunger of our soul.
The end, illusive and a far,
Still leaves us with its beckoning flight,
And all our mortal moments are
A session of the infinite.

In the Golden Threshold she carves the beauty of an Indian evening.

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.
Hush ! in the silence mystic voices sing,
And make the Gods their incense offering.

Sarojini's poetry reveals her views on life and her imagination.

The hope of a bride or the dream of a maiden
Watching the petals of gladness unfold,
… timid future shrinking there alone
Beneath her marriage-veil of mysteries.

Another great piece of work is At Twilight : On the way to Golconda, Where the debris of history provokes her to question :

Shall hope prevail where clamorous hate is rife,
Shall sweet love prosper or high dreams have place
Amid the tumult of reverberant strife
'Twixt ancient creeds, 'twixt race and ancient race,
That mars the grave, glad purposes of life,
Leaving no refuge save thy succoring face ?

And her answer is :

Quick with the sense of joy she hath forgone,
Returned my soul to beckoning joys that wait,
Laughter of children and the lyric dawn
And love's delight profound and passionate,
Winged dreams that blow their golden clarion.
And hope that conquers immemorial hate.

It is further expressed in the spring song titled Ecstasy:

Shall we in the midst of life's exquisite chorus Remember our grief,
O heart, when the rapturous season is o'er us of blossom and leaf ?
Their joy from the birds and the streams let us borrow,
O heart let us sing.

The years are before us for weeping and sorrow,
To day it is spring !

An excerpt from The Slayer:

Love, it at dawn some passerby should say Lo ! doth thy raiment diep with morning dew,
Thy face, perchance, is drenched with wild sea spray
Thy hair with fallen rain,
Make answer Nay

These be the death drops from sad eyes blue with the quick torch a pain.

And if at dusk some reveller should cry
"What rare vermillion intage hast thou spilled ?
Or is thy robe splashed with pomegranate dye,
Or bruised soft crimson leaf,
O Love, reply

These be the life drops from a heart I killed with the swift spear of grief.