To India My Native Land
My country! in thy day of glory past
A beautious halo circled round thy brow,
And worshipped as a deity thou wast.
A beautious halo circled round thy brow,
And worshipped as a deity thou wast.
Where is that glory, where that reverence now?
Thy eagle pinion is chained down at last.
And gorvelling in the lowly dust art thou;
Thy minstrel hath no wreath to weave for thee
Save the sad story of thy misery!
And gorvelling in the lowly dust art thou;
Thy minstrel hath no wreath to weave for thee
Save the sad story of thy misery!
Well- let me dive into the depths of time,
And bring from out the ages that have rolled
A few small fragments or those wrecks sublime,
Which human eyes may never more behold;
And bring from out the ages that have rolled
A few small fragments or 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 thee!
My fallen country! one kind wish from thee!
Henry Louis Vivian Derozio
P.S.: This is one poem which I read for the first time a decade back when I was in school. However it continues to carry the same impression and arose the same zeal that it did when I read it first. Written in the context of failing citizens, it calls forth the countrymen to cast aside their differences and strive to reach the country at the same level of glory that it once was ...
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