LINES OF POEM
To India – My native land
My country! In your days of glory past
A beauteous halo circled round your brow.
And worshipped as a deity you were…
Where is that glory, where that reverence now?
Your eagle pinion is chained down at last
And grovelling in the lowly dust are you;
Your minstrel has no wreath to weave for you
Save the sad story of your misery
Well – let me dive into the depths of time,
And bring from out of the ages that have rolled
A few small fragments of those wrecks sublime,
Which human eyes may never more behold:
And let the guerdon of my labour be
My fallen country! One kind wish from you!