śrī sarasvatī nakṣatramālā stavaḥ

A garland of stars to Sarasvatī by Līlāśuka, the poet better known for his Kṛṣṇakarṇāmṛta, and the courtly manner of that work is here too. It opens by asking her to take charge of the very tongue that is trying to praise her — this tongue of mine, straining to lick at the streams of praise that are yours and milking out your praise of its own accord, take it into your keeping, mother. The verses that follow are almost entirely in the mode of the love poem turned to worship: her face with its red lower lip and lotus eyes, the target of a play of compassion-raining sidelong glances; the spotless autumn moon is no match for the turn of her face; her lip out-argues the ruddiness of the ripe bimba fruit. Its last verse asks that this speech of the parrot of Kṛṣṇa's play be taken in by tongue, by mind, or by ear — or by all three.