Reginald Heber (1783–1826)

IF thou wert by my side, my love,

How fast would evening fail,

In green Bengala’s palmy grove,

Listening the nightingale!

I miss thee, when, by Gunga’s stream,

My twilight steps I guide,

But most beneath the lamp’s pale beam

I miss thee from my side.

But when at morn and eve the star

Beholds me on my knee,

I feel, though thou art distant far,

Thy prayers ascend for me.

Then on, then on, where duty leads!

My course be onward still,

O’er broad Hindostan’s sultry meads,

O’er bleak Almorah’s hill.

That course nor Delhi’s kingly gates,

Nor mild Malwah detain;

For sweet the bliss us both awaits

By yonder western main.

Thy towers, Bombay, gleam bright, they say,

Across the dark blue sea;

But ne’er were hearts so light and gay

As then shall meet in thee!