Day by day her breasts grew great.

Dūtikā:
Day by day her breasts grew great.
Her hips increased, her middle waned:
Madan now enlarged her eyes.
All of her childhood fled in fear.

Breasts that are jujubes first, and then like oranges,
Daily the sting of Love increasing them:
Thereafter waxing greater than the pummalo,
Now they are twin ripe honey-apple fruits.

Ah Mādhava! I saw the fair one freely,
I suddenly beheld her as she bathed;
The filmy muslin clung upon her breast,--
Happy he who sees her thus!

Her jet-black hair poured down her breast
As though a shaggy yak concealed a gold Mahesh:
Hearken Murāri, Vidyāpati saith:
So fair a may may dally with a man of worth.