the call of lanka

I climbed o'er the crags of Lanka
And gazed on her golden sea,
And out of her ancient places,
Her soul came forth to me:
Give me a Bard" said Lanka,
"My Bard of things to be"

My cities are laid in ruins,
"Their courts through the jungle spread,
"My sceptre is long departed"
And the stranger lord instead,
"You give me a bard said Lanka,
"I am living, I am not dead."

"For high in my highland valleys,
"And low in my lowland plains
"The pride of the past is pulling
"Hot in the peoples veins
"Give me a Bard" said Lanka
"A Bard for my joys and pains.

"I offer a voice O Lanka,
I, child of an alien isle,
For my heart has heard thee, and kindled,
My eyes have seen thee, and smile;
Take Foster Mother, and use it;
Tis for a little while.

For surely of thine own children,
Born of thy womb shall rise
The Bard of the moonlit jungle,
The Bard of the tropic skies,
Warm from his mothers bosom,
Bright from his mothers eyes.

He shall hymn thee of hoar Sripada,
The peak that is lone and tall,
He shall hymn with crags of Dunhinda,
The smoking waterfall;
Whatsoever is fair in Lanka
He shall know it and love it all.

He shall sing thee of sheer Sigiriya,
Of Minneriya's wandering kine,
He shall sing of the lakes and lotus,
He shall sing of the rock hewn srine,
Whatsoever is old in Lanka,S
hall live in his lordly line.

But most shall sing of Lanka
In the brave new days to come,
When the races have all blended,
And the voice of strife is dumb;
We will leap to a single bugle,
March to a single drum.

March to a mighty purpose,
One man from shore to shore,
The stranger become a brother,
The task of the tutor o'er;
When the ruined city rises
And the palace gleams once more.

Hark ! Bard of the fateful future,
Hark ! Bard of the light To-Be,
A voice on the verdant montains,
A voice on the golden sea;
Rise child of Lanka and answer !
Thy mother hath called to Thee.

Rev. Stanley Senior 1876-1938