SONGS OF THE SOUL
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.
I love thy moon,
I love thy hills and seas,
In thee I wish to cease, or swoon.
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