Songs of the Soul/Part 3/My Native Land
MY NATIVE LAND
The friendly sky,
Inviting shades of banian tree,
The holy Ganges flowing by,—
How can I forget thee!
Inviting shades of banian tree,
The holy Ganges flowing by,—
How can I forget thee!
I love the waving corn
Of India’s fields so bright,
Oh, better than those Heav’nly grown
By deathless gods of might.
Of India’s fields so bright,
Oh, better than those Heav’nly grown
By deathless gods of might.
My soul’s broad love so grand
Was born here first below,—
In my own native land,
On India’s sunny soil aglow.
Was born here first below,—
In my own native land,
On India’s sunny soil aglow.
I love thy breeze,
I love thy moon,
I love thy hills and seas,
In thee I wish to cease, or swoon.
Thou taught’st me first to love
Thy sky, the stars, the God above;
So my first homage meets,
O India, at thy feet!
I love thy moon,
I love thy hills and seas,
In thee I wish to cease, or swoon.
Thou taught’st me first to love
Thy sky, the stars, the God above;
So my first homage meets,
O India, at thy feet!
From thee I now have learn’d to see,
To love all lands alike as thee;
I bow to thee, my native land,
The Mother of my love so grand.
To love all lands alike as thee;
I bow to thee, my native land,
The Mother of my love so grand.