Dr. R. L. Spittel - Hail Lanka!
Hail Lanka!
Let others belaud the ways of the West,
Or homeland or township, wherever it be,
However mighty, however blest -
Lanka, my Island , you are all to me.
When homeward I keel from travels afar,
And your mountains arise like wraiths from the sea,
By rose of the dawn or beam of the star:
Oh, Island mine, you are heaven to me.
And from the Peak and the table-land
That brave the blue dome's immensity,
From tree-girt shore and glittering sand,
The emerald Island calls to me.
Ancestral strains on her breezes blown
Steal out of her solitudes eerily:
The tales that are shrined in legend and stone
Are the songs the old Island sings to me.
But oh for the trails that the wild men tread,
For the hills that are haunts of the hiving bee,
For the twittering bill and the branching head:
Oh Island, wild Island , you are home to me.
By Dr. R. L. Spittel
