Upon the Ganges’ regal stream,1
The sun’s bright splendours rest ;2
And gorgeously the noon-tide beam3
Reposes on its breast :4
But in a small secluded nook,5
Beyond the western sea,6
There rippling glides a narrow brook,7
That’s dearer far to me.8
The lory perches on my hand,9
Caressing to be fed,10
And spreads its plumes at my command,11
And stoops its purple head ;12
But where the robin, humble guest,13
Comes flying from the tree,14
Which bears its unpretending nest,15
Alas ! I’d rather be.16
The fire-fly flashes through the sky,17
A meteor swift and bright ;18
And the wide space around, on high,19
Gleams with its emerald light ;20
Though glory tracks that shooting star,21
And bright its splendours shine,22
The glow-worm’s lamp is dearer far23
To this sad heart of mine.24
Throughout the summer year, the flowers25
In all the flush of bloom,26
Clustering around the forest bowers,27
Exhale their rich perfume.28
The daisy, and the primrose pale,29
Though scentless they may be,30
That gem a far, far distant vale,31
Are much more prized by me.32
The lotus opes its chalices,33
Upon the tank’s broad lake,34
Where India’s stately palaces35
Their ample mirrors make :36
But reckless of each tower and dome,37
The splendid and the grand,38
I languish for a cottage home,39
Within my native land.40