Welcometo thee, sweet khunjunee!Which is thy best-loved home?—Over the sea, in a far countrie,Or the land to which thou art come?What carest thou?—thou revelest hereIn the bright and balmy air;And again to regions far remoteThou returnest—and summer is there!Thou art sacred here, where the Brahmin tellsOf the godhead's seal impressedBy Vishnoo's hand—that thou bearest stillHis gorget on thy breast.And welcomed thou art, with grateful heart,For well doth the Hindoo know,That at thy approach the clouds disperse,And temperate breezes blow.Yet little he cares where thy sojourn hath beenSo long, since he saw thee last;Nor in what far land of storm or calmThe rainy months have passed.But others there be, who think with me,Thou hast been to that favoured land,Which restores the bloom to the faded cheek,And strength to the feeble hand.And my children believe, that since thou wert here,Thou hast compassed half the earth,And that now thou hast come, like a thought in a dream,From the land of their father's birth;Bringing with thee the healthful breezeThat blows from the heath-clad hill,And the breath of the primrose and gowan that bloomOn the bank by the babbling rill.Then welcome to thee, little khunjunee!May thy presence a blessing confer;Still of breezes cool, and returning health,The faithful harbinger.Old Indian.
Welcometo thee, sweet khunjunee!Which is thy best-loved home?—Over the sea, in a far countrie,Or the land to which thou art come?
What carest thou?—thou revelest hereIn the bright and balmy air;And again to regions far remoteThou returnest—and summer is there!
Thou art sacred here, where the Brahmin tellsOf the godhead's seal impressedBy Vishnoo's hand—that thou bearest stillHis gorget on thy breast.
And welcomed thou art, with grateful heart,For well doth the Hindoo know,That at thy approach the clouds disperse,And temperate breezes blow.
Yet little he cares where thy sojourn hath beenSo long, since he saw thee last;Nor in what far land of storm or calmThe rainy months have passed.
But others there be, who think with me,Thou hast been to that favoured land,Which restores the bloom to the faded cheek,And strength to the feeble hand.
And my children believe, that since thou wert here,Thou hast compassed half the earth,And that now thou hast come, like a thought in a dream,From the land of their father's birth;
Bringing with thee the healthful breezeThat blows from the heath-clad hill,And the breath of the primrose and gowan that bloomOn the bank by the babbling rill.
Then welcome to thee, little khunjunee!May thy presence a blessing confer;Still of breezes cool, and returning health,The faithful harbinger.
Old Indian.
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